Void
by Pitch Black Magpie
Summary: Gohan dies at the hands of Cell, falling into a wasteland where lost souls wander. By the time Piccolo pulls him out, years have passed, and the world and his friends have changed drastically. With his loyalties divided and him too weak to fight anymore, he tries to figure out how to piece his life back together and figure out where it all went wrong.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This runs with the idea of Gohan dying during the Cell Games. Please note that things within the fic do not reflect how I feel about characters, as that's an assumption people often make. :P Just because a character acts a certain way towards someone or even hates someone within the story, doesn't mean that **_I_** do. :P

* * *

Gohan didn't know where he was.

His mind felt like the murky pond waters that developed in the fall around his home, too dusty to see through and too sludgy to wade in. With great effort, he opened his eyes, gazing about in confusion.

Around him lay a strange darkness, like the sun had been snuffed out. He couldn't feel the ground, though, so maybe he was dreaming? Was it simply night out and he had sleepwalked?

Gohan struggled to feel his hands and feet, feeling a strange sense of detachment from his self. He slowly stretched them out, feeling around until he found something solid. He felt what seemed to be a wall on his left, so he pushed closer to it, reaching out.

It was as if the world had suddenly righted itself; he felt himself being shoved downward before he fell face first on the ground, slamming into the wall. Disoriented, he pushed himself to his hands and knees, squinting into the darkness for any signs of daylight.

"Where am I?" he said aloud, but it came out distorted and metallic-sounding. For that matter, what had happened before? He couldn't remember much of anything about where he and his friends had been, or what they were doing, or even recall any events that had happened recently. He knew _who_ he was, but not much of anything else.

Gohan walked forward in a random direction, calling out. "Hello? Is anyone there?" Silence greeted him. " _Hello?_ "

Again, nothing.

Frowning, Gohan walked and walked until his feet were sore. It might have been hours, days, weeks even; he couldn't seem to count the passage of time even past a "one, two, three, four" sequence. Somehow, the blackness around him seemed hazy and unclear; even if he couldn't see anything.

He called out again, but this time, he couldn't hear his own voice. With a start, he realized he couldn't feel his feet anymore; the sensation crept up his legs and torso, making his heart race in panic until he couldn't feel that anymore, either.

He couldn't see, hear, or feel anything; there was no energy signatures around him, and he couldn't even remember how he'd gotten there.

It was enough to drive a person mad.

* * *

Gohan tried to scream. He heard nothing.

"Where am I?" he wanted to shout until his lungs were hoarse. "I don't know where I am. I don't know where I am!"

The only thing he wanted was to feel the breeze, or hear birds chirping outside his window, anything to get rid of the all-encompassing sensation of dullness that was quickly replacing any trace of self-identity he had. His world was one of black and black; there were no shades of grey to walk, no shades of color to enjoy, no traces of life to explore.

"Please help me," he tried to whisper, but silence greeted him. It was the first time he'd pleaded with the blackness; asked for it to release him, asked for help. _Please make it stop._

 _It hurts._

 _It hurts._

 _It hurts._

* * *

Gohan had forgotten his name when he started to feel his feet again. For a moment, he wondered what they were, and why he could feel them- why they seemed to make the world tilt in weird places.

His hands were next. He reached up to touch his face, feeling an odd wetness there. What did it mean?

"I don't know where I am," he repeated, like a broken record. "I don't know where I am."

 _"Get angry!"_

With a shriek that made his throat erupt in fire, Gohan took off, slamming through empty space in a wild frenzy. He didn't know why he was afraid, exactly, but the voice- the first one he'd heard in- well, he didn't quite know, he'd always been here, hadn't he?- the first voice he'd heard in his whole life had caused fear to erupt in his gut, terror seizing his veins.

Just like that, the black turned to grey, making him stumble and fall. Gohan turned over onto his back, staring up at the greyness with confusion; he lifted one hand above his face and tilted his head in befuddlement. There was a black outline that encompassed what he could feel- it was a weird, long shape with four long pieces attached. Was it his body?

Did he have a body?

He wiggled the five objects attached to him experimentally, suddenly feeling as if it were blaringly obvious. _What are they called? There are five of them…it starts with f… F…fingers?_

Yes, they were his fingers. He was sure of it now. Feeling accomplished, the boy got up and started walking again.

Gohan slipped, stumbled, fell; sand was beneath his- toes? Yes, they were toes- seeping up over his feet, impeding him. The sand rose up to fill his nostrils, covering his head as he sunk down, down, down. He scrambled for traction, but found nothing, only the unending sensation of falling through the pit. His back abruptly slammed into what felt like a rock, making a spike of a strange sensation shoot through him-

 _"Show me your power!"_

He spiraled out of control, the sand disappeared, and he tumbled into a hole full of clock hands.

One of the hands whacked him over the head, making him wince away from it. Whatever that sensation was, he didn't like it.

 _Surely someone like you has a limit to how much they'll endure!_

Pain erupted everywhere. Gohan felt as if his body had turned to fire, as if he were standing on the sun burning up for a hundred years. He screamed, hearing it this time, and it echoed all around him, making everything shatter into millions of tiny little pieces.

The pain disappeared and Gohan floated in confusion, watching the miniscule slivers dance around him. "I don't know where I am."

The ground was back. He wandered down, eyes alighting upon a shaft of light down at the end of the way. He didn't feel as if he were in any hurry, so he sauntered down-

" _Gohan!"_

A snake wrapped around his arms and torso, made of black ink and without a head. He screeched in surprise and pain, tumbling down the ramp and shrieking with every bout of pain it brought.

He tumbled into the light, his eyes burning in his skull _there are two hundred and six bones in the human body_ and landed on a cliff, not so much falling unconscious as he simply passed through time, waking up much later.

* * *

"Where am I?" Gohan stared up at the sky, yellow with magenta clouds, in confusion. "I don't know where I am."

For some reason, he felt as if he had said that quite a lot.

He watched a dog-shaped cloud slowly trudge by, feeling as if he had forgotten something very important.

"Who am I?"

No one answered. When he sat up, he felt like his bones were shifting and creaking into place, sticking into his muscles at odd angles and places.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone help me?"

His face felt wet. He reached up and felt water there, for some reason he couldn't discern. It seemed to upset him.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Where am I? I don't know where I am."

Had someone put him there to punish him for something? Gohan felt like he had failed a very important task. Had he been tossed aside because he was a failure?

"I'm sorry," he croaked, throat sore. He started walking again.

* * *

"My name is Gohan," Gohan muttered for the millionth time, eyes bleary as he walked through the desert. He could hear wind blowing in the distance, but he could never seem to catch any breeze. "My name is Gohan."

He wanted to remember his name. He felt like names were important, and he'd known a lot of names at some point, but he couldn't remember any of them now.

"Is anyone there?" he yelled, ignoring how it set his throat on fire. His mouth was so dry. "Please tell me if you are. I'm sorry for whatever I did."

There was no answer.

"I'm _sorry_."

A gargantuan well of guilt rested in him, but he didn't know what for. He felt his breath hitch, and he choked, not knowing why that happened and why his face scrunched up whenever the eye-water came. "I'm sorry," he wept, wiping his face with one of the blue scraps of fabric barely hanging onto his wrist. He noticed, suddenly, there was more of the material on him, covering his whole body. It was purple, and ragged, ripped in places, but he liked it at once.

He continued to walk. It must have been days now, but he couldn't tell. Were there even any other beings here? Was he the only one? If there were others, did they live here? Was it normal to be like this?

Maybe that's just what he was.

Gohan didn't want to believe that. It was unbelievably lonely. He almost wished there were others here, but he didn't think he wanted other people to experience this. It didn't seem happy.

He felt like he was getting closer to something. In his excitement, he broke into a job, wincing at the pain that rippled up his legs. He seemed to be unnaturally thin; maybe he had never exercised before he came here.

His stomach had been hurting for a long time. Gohan wondered what it meant. Was he supposed to do something to make it stop?

The dusty desert floor turned abruptly to cold steel. His bare feet slipped, making him stumble right into a bench. He hit the side with a wince, taking a moment to orient himself.

Wait. Bench? How'd he know what that thing was?

"I'm Gohan," he said firmly, using the bench as a crutch to get up and sit down. "Gohan."

"Ooo-hoo," said a small black owl perched on his knees. Gohan tilted his head, wondering how it had gotten there. "Ooo-hoo."

He poked it in the nose. Immediately, pain made him wrench over, crying out. The bird disappeared in a crumbling of knives, leaving him to slide onto the ground holding his abdomen.

Hadn't he seen birds like that before?

 _His spine snapped in half as he dropped to the ground._

Gohan rubbed his forehead, looking around and actually _seeing_ everything around him for the first time. Every so often, a rock fell from a cliff far off, the boom echoing for miles. A clock ticked somewhere near him, and he sat in a train station, albeit an empty one.

"Hello?!" he shouted, getting up and limping toward the information desk. No one was there. "Someone! Please! I don't know where I am!"

 _"I'll force it out of you, then!"_

"No!" Gohan wept, sliding down a wall and covering his ears. "Just leave me alone! Go away!"

 _"It hurts, doesn't it? Like nothing you've ever known!"_

"Leave me alone," Gohan sobbed quietly, burying his face in his knees. For an indeterminate period of time, his crying was the only sound around, echoing off the walls.

The voice left after a very long time and after no time at all. He crawled up from the floor, leaning on the wall as he left, but it turned to water before he could leave, tossing him into a pond. He looked around in confusion.

The station was still there, just with a pond attached.

The water felt too hot, so he lifted himself out, although it took most of his strength. He stumbled back to his bench, huddling hopelessly.

As he sat there, he began to remember things: names, places, dates. Trying to sort it all out, he mumbled quietly into the stillness. "I don't know who they are. Krillin. Tien. Yamcha. Kami? Goku? Who are you? Do I know you? Is anybody here?"

No one answered him, as usual.

Gohan cried out angrily, ramming his fist into the back of the seat. "Why don't I know anything?" After a moment, he continued calmly again. "I'm…ten. I've been here for ten years?" he asked in confusion. It felt like the wrong- or at least off- answer, somehow. "What's a Kamehameha?" he stumbled over the word, botching it slightly. The same owl from before looked down at him from a ledge. He frowned at it. "Do you know?"

"Ooo-hoo!"

"Um… okay…" he set to thinking again, feeling like something was eluding him.

"Flute!" the bird suddenly chirped, doing an odd dance.

"Flute? Why is flute important?"

"Flute!"

"Daisuke! Daisuke! Daisuke! _Pikkoro._ "

"Daisuke Pikkoro?" he asked, confused, before his face lit up. "Pikkoro?"

"San!" the bird dissolved into sludge.

"Piccolo-san!" Gohan yelled, nearly slipping off the bench from how hard he whirled around. "Piccolo-san?"

"Saaaaa~" the bird said from somewhere.

"I don't know… quite who he is," Gohan frowned again. "But I remember…I loved him."

* * *

"He taught me things," Gohan muttered, kicking a stray rock in his path as he meandered through the landscape. "I don't really remember what. And then he…died…because I was weak," a heartbroken look flickered across his face. "To keep someone from…killing me?"

The owl- lizard, now- hooted. "And then…I went…somewhere. To bring him back." He thrummed his fingers on his cheek, straining to remember. "And then. He didn't leave again. He was fighting someone, with the three-eyed man, someone who could…eat people? No, absorb them. I tried to go help him, but that man in orange hit me." Feeling a little insulted, he paused and frowned, kicking a larger rock aside. "I wonder how strong the orange man was. It seems like he's not that strong if he couldn't stop someone as weak as me." The lizard made a sound that frogs usually did. "I was weak, wasn't I? I was fighting the bug-man, but I failed, and he-"

 _Snap. Crack. Thud._

 _Gohan moaned, curling his fingers into the dirt below him. Everything hurt. He couldn't feel his legs, sending a flash of panic through him. Faintly, he heard someone screaming._

 _"Pathetic," said the android standing over him, pointing a finger at his heart. Pink energy shot forth, piercing through his chest like a knife slicing through butter._

"I failed everyone," Gohan sobbed, collapsing to the floor and burying his face in his hands. "I was too weak to save anything. I failed Piccolo-san, and Father, and- it's all my fault."

The lizard grew wings, slowly changing color as it hobbled toward him. When he looked up, Icarus stared back through blank eyes.

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

Icarus nodded.

"This is my punishment, then," Gohan curled his arms around his knees. "I deserve it."

Icarus nodded before turning around and ambling away, leaving Gohan alone.

There hadn't been anything there at all. Just Gohan's own sick mind trying to remind him of what he'd done. It was too good for him to wander in this place without remembering it.

"Is this hell?" he whispered, shivering at the coldness that suddenly seemed to envelope everything around him.

In the corner of his eye, water shimmered into existence wrapped around a small cliff, looking like a slowly-rotating, calm tornado. For a minute, he did nothing, but he eventually got up to investigate, walking toward it and ignoring the pangs in his body as he did so.

The water completely covered the rock, hiding it from existence. An image slowly flickered to life, but Gohan couldn't make it out.

"Closer," a familiar voice said- desperately, frantically, like they were running out of time. Gohan wondered why it was so worried.

Confused, he tilted his head, eyes slightly blank. " _Closer,_ " the voice snapped again, and this time he took a step forward, watching as what looked like a hand exited through the water, outstretched toward him.

It was hard to look at, exceedingly blurry, and barely recognizable as a hand, but still a hand. It was one of the least weird things about this place Gohan had seen. He wondered if, should he take it, something would explode or something else similarly violent.

The hand gestured toward the column. Puzzled, Gohan looked up, back down again, and back up. "What?"

The water started to shimmer and drip away. The hand reached out toward him as far as it could, straining to reach him. The column was rapidly disappearing, and he knew the hand would as well, so Gohan reached forward and grabbed it, his own so thin it barely wrapped around three fingers; anything to break up the monotony of this place.

The hand snapped and closed over his like a vice, its grip one of steel. Gohan yelped as he was yanked into the water, crashing through it so quickly he barely even knew what happened.

And just like that, his world burst into color, his senses roaring to life in his head.

He was alive.


	2. Chapter 2

He was so _cold_.

"We've got to get him warmed up," someone said nearby. "Mr. Popo, get blankets and warm water going. Not too hot! Get the tubing. Piccolo, take him inside to the bath."

 _That doesn't make any sense,_ Gohan thought. He didn't understand.

Someone was carrying him. The wind was freezing and harsh, but the only place he could feel it was his face. He wanted to open his eyes, but his body wasn't responding; he was barely awake.

Now that he could feel everything with clarity, he realized just how _hungry_ he was. The pain resonating in his abdomen made him want to keel over, puke, gulp down a whale, and puke it all back up again. It was worse than what Cell had done to him. Kami, why was he so _hungry_?

That was his last thought before he passed out.

* * *

The steady beeping of a heart monitor was what woke him. It was the last thing he expected to hear in this miserable dimension, and for a moment, he considered not even trying to open his eyes.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" one of the voices asked.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Popo. The damage that's been done to his body is so severe…and we can't use the Dragon Balls for another year. This isn't something I can just heal…"

Wait. Was that _Dende_?

Gohan forced his eyes open, staring in confusion at the white stone ceiling above him.

Slowly, he managed to turn his head, his puzzlement increasing. There were IV's running into his arm, which looked thin and weak on the white sheets; everything was blurry, like someone had thrown acid into his eyes and a senzu had failed to heal them correctly. He couldn't seem to sit up, either.

"Gohan, don't try and get up," said Piccolo from his right, one hand pressing gently on his shoulder. "I know you're confused, but you need to stay still." Gohan tried to look him in the eye, but his whole face was blurred to the point of just looking like a large splotch of green.

 _Everything hurts,_ Gohan thought, blinking several times. Dende knelt down beside him, hand glowing as he placed it on his forehead. Gohan winced, trying to turn away from the energy, but was barely able to move his head. What was going _on_?

"Shh. Go back to sleep, Gohan."

Sleep sounded nice. Everything felt like it was on fire and his mouth was a perpetual desert, and he slid into unconscious, one thought on his mind.

 _I don't know where I am._

* * *

He was back in the pit, falling down a hole full of clock hands and sand. He grasped vainly at the sides of the shoot, feeling the needles the hands had burst into pierce his skin and bones.

There was a brief flash of sunlight that replaced the image, and he got the feeling he was walking somewhere.

Then the owl from the train station landed on his head, talons piercing his eyes, and he screamed noiselessly.

Another flicker of strange whiteness; someone had their arms around him, helping him into a chair. It was as if he were dreaming, catching glimpses of something that had once happened to him.

" _Gohan, please eat."_

What was 'eating'?

Memories suddenly assaulted his mind; the last thing he wanted was to eat. When he was finished, the fun part would be over and they'd have to go to the white place again, where the weight of the moon came down on his shoulders and the air was thin.

He woke up to a gentle breeze caressing his bangs. For a moment, he lay there, his mind sluggishly trying to orient itself.

"Gohan," said the voice from earlier. Gohan's eyes flickered towards it, but he winced, pressing them shut. Everything was so utterly bright.

A hand brushed the hair out of his eyes. Gohan managed to crack them open, staring up in bleary confusion at the person kneeling at his bedside, wondering who it was.

"Try and remember who we are."

That was too taxing on his brain. Gohan didn't even try, not out of laziness but because he couldn't get himself to focus on anything longer than a few seconds. He opened his mouth to try and speak, but immediately started coughing on air. A pair of arms lifted him into a sitting position, and he leaned on them heavily, unable to stay vertical on his own.

Everything seemed so dull. He could barely hear the wind outside, barely differentiate his own fingers. He felt like he was missing something important.

He leaned against whoever was with him, listening to their heart beat. Even if he was still confused about what was going on, at least he wasn't alone in that place anymore. He'd been by himself so long that he'd forgotten what actual voices sounded like.

He didn't know how much time passed before he slowly began to piece together what had happened and his mind seemed to recognize that it wasn't dead anymore. He began to notice things, like the birds chirping outside and the ruffle of Piccolo's and Dende's clothing when they entered the room, or the humming of Mr. Popo as he watered the plants on the windowsills.

As hard as he tried, though, he couldn't speak.

The first time he got up and walked around was with Piccolo hovering at one side holding his arm while Dende supported him on the other, hobbling around the room once before he was too out of breath to do any more. Feeling ashamed of himself, he promptly shut down for three hours, retreating into a vivid hallucination of shifting sand and rabid, dancing owls.

Then he remembered how he had gotten there in the first place.

Dende was humming slightly when it happened, having taken over Mr. Popo's watering and smiling at a bluebird that was chirping at him from the window. A strange choking noise caught his attention- a human wouldn't have heard it, but Namekian ears were for more than just decoration. The watering can clattered to the floor as he rushed over to Gohan, who sat up in bed with an alarmed, panicked look on his face, struggling to breathe. "Gohan, calm down!"

Trembling, Gohan tried to obey, but images were racing too quickly through his mind for him to listen. He jerked when Piccolo appeared beside them, already moving Gohan to lean over and put his head between his knees. "Gohan, breathe."

Gohan sucked in a small breath of air, clenching his eyes shut. Every nerve in his body felt like it was on high alert; every joint creaked with pain at the uncomfortable position.

A tense solid sixty seconds passed before he began to breathe normally. Another two minutes before he managed to move again.

Gohan flinched away when Piccolo tried to set a hand on his shoulder. Both Namekians crinkled their eyebrows in confusion while Gohan simply buried his face in his knee, cringing.

Dende looked on in befuddlement, but realization spread across Piccolo's face. He sat down on the mattress beside his pupil, placing one hand on his head. "Gohan. You don't have anything to be ashamed of. There's no weakness here. You don't have to worry about being the strongest here."

Gohan looked up, eyes searching, before he relaxed, face going slack with relief. Dende began to speak, cautious. "Cell is dead, Gohan. He or anyone else will never hurt you again. You're _safe_."

 _Safe_. Gohan remembered, at first, the blackness, and then the grey world; the realm of desert sands and the sensation of falling. He hadn't felt safe in a long time. He hadn't _felt_ in a long time.

He felt now.

* * *

The first time Gohan made noise again, he started to laugh.

Piccolo sat cross-legged on the ground under one of the Lookout trees, watching Gohan as he leaned heavily on the walking stick conjured for him and smiled down at a bird in his hands. Dende stood on the edge, pretending to observe Earth while he stared at Gohan out of the corner of his eye, and Mr. Popo did the same while watering a daffodil for the third time.

While his gaze was locked on Gohan, Piccolo didn't notice the bird dive-bombing him until it landed with his nose, making him jerk his head back and make a startled noise. Gohan looked up, mouth opening in surprise, and saw Piccolo going crossed-eyed. His chest started to shake with an unfamiliar sensation before laughter bubbled up out of his mouth, making tears rise to his eyes. He sat down on the Lookout floor before he fell over, not trusting his legs to support him.

One of Piccolo's ears twitched, but no one moved, just sitting and listening to Gohan laugh.

* * *

"Piccolo-san?"

"Yes?"

"What happened after I died?"

When he received no answer, Gohan shifted until he could see Piccolo hovering by the window, staring out at the sky with a dark look on his face. "Piccolo-san?"

"After Cell…" Dende trailed off, fiddling with his robes. "Killed you, Piccolo and Trunks attacked Cell on their own. It was too much for Trunks to see you die again…he reached a level that rivaled Cell's power, but he died attempting to finish him off. Vegeta and the others attacked then, and with their combined efforts, they killed Cell before he could do anymore harm."

Gohan frowned, noticing a name absent from Dende's speech. "What about my…my father?"

"That coward waited until the last moment to step in and help," Piccolo spat. Gohan looked at him in concern. "He was in too much shock to even move. He was even weaker than Vegeta then."

"He's been trying for a long while to become strong enough so that he's the only one who'd have to fight off an enemy," Dende murmured.

Gohan didn't miss his wording. "Wait, what do you mean a long while? Hasn't it only been a few days?" he was still eleven, last time he checked. Both Namekians became distinctly uncomfortable. "Come on, guys, what're you not telling me?"

"You haven't been dead for a few days," Dende whispered. "You've been dead for eight years."

No one said a word. Gohan stared at his friend with wide, disbelieving eyes. "B-but…that's impossible," he blurted.

"Do you remember how long you were gone?" Piccolo asked. "Did you count the days?"

"…no," Gohan admitted, frowning at his feet. "I didn't even know who I was."

"You've been recuperating here for months," Dende said gently, placing a hand on Gohan's shoulder. "Drifting in and out of consciousness. It's only this week that you finally woke up…and that you were all there."

"I don't understand," Gohan said in frustration. "Why couldn't you revive me right after the Cell Games?"

"Your soul and body was trapped in a wasteland," Piccolo replied, and for first but not the last time, Gohan could see eight years' worth of pain on his face. "Souls who are in so much pain that they start to break fall into it on their way to Other World. The darkness there seeps in through the cracks, turning them into empty shells."

"We've been trying for eight years to find it," Dende said gently. "It isn't a physical place. It took powerful magic and all three wishes from Shenron to pull you out after all this time."

Gohan glanced between them both in shock, before, "Wait, is this why you're taller?"

* * *

"Why haven't you told anyone?" Gohan frowned, rubbing the shell of his ear.

"Those cowards didn't deserve to know," Piccolo growled.

"What he means is," Dende hedged nervously, adjusting Gohan's blankets. "We didn't want to give anyone false hope. We didn't know if you would make it. The Waste took a severe toll on your body; you were malnourished, dehydrated, and your body was burnt out from the dark energy constantly surrounding it there. It was only because you have a pure soul you even managed to make it back still able to remember who you are."

Piccolo's posture was tense; Mr. Popo had left the room in a hurry, muttering something about watering his petunias. Gohan tilted his head with a puzzled look. "Haven't they been looking too?"

They didn't answer, but he didn't need one.

Gohan's face fell and he slumped slightly, averting his gaze to the floor. "They haven't been, have they."

His disappointment seemed to agitate Piccolo further as he visibly struggled to control his ire. "They…lost hope," Dende said, trying to put it in a way that wouldn't make Gohan feel like they'd abandoned him. "They did look, for a few years, but you were dead, and they…"

"It's okay, Dende, you don't have to try and spare my feelings," Gohan muttered. He wasn't mad; he didn't think he had that in him. It just stung that they had given up on him.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. As soon as they found out he was back, his parents would undoubtedly want him to come back home.

But he didn't know if he wanted to go back.

If he did, Goku would probably want to spar every day; Gohan couldn't bear disappointing him. He probably wouldn't be able to spar again for years- his ribs and various other bones showed against his skin, and his muscles were weak; he wasn't anything like he was before. He couldn't even channel his ki without being in excruciating pain.

And then his mother would just want him to go back to his studies. She'd probably have eight years' worth of new textbooks for him to catch up on.

All his life, he'd tried so hard to make both of them proud of him, going so far as to face down a monster in his father's place. With his father, he was a brave warrior who wanted to fight; with his mother, he was the polite, studious scholar who wanted a life behind a desk or lab table.

Here, though, he could just be Gohan. He loved them more than his own life, and he didn't want to just cut them out of his life and never see them again, but he wanted a break from their expectations.

"P-Piccolo-san?" he asked, "can I stay here? I don't want to go home."

Dende's eyes widened in surprise. Piccolo looked down at him, floating down from the window and running a hand through his hair like a father would his child's. "You're welcome here for the rest of your life."

Gohan grinned in relief. "Thank you. That's okay with you, Dende, right?"

"Of course it is, Gohan! This is the best place for you to get better, anyway, as I can heal you every day," Dende said, sagging against his staff and looking relieved that the tension had evaporated. "Healing energy is positive energy, so it will help your body recover from the dark energy from the Waste."

Gohan just hoped that he _would_ recover.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been just over a month since their talk, and Gohan was getting antsy.

He was finally started to fill out and gain weight again despite his small appetite, but staying in one spot too long made every step afterward a sore one. He got headaches often, which Dende helped with but couldn't completely alleviate. He still used a cane to walk around, although he never stayed on his feet for more than ten minutes.

He wanted to go see the rest of the Z-Fighters, but it made him nervous thinking about it. Piccolo and Dende had been the only ones who hadn't given up on him; what if he'd been left in the Waste forever? Would he have just wasted away to nothing? Would he have never made it to Other World and never seen his family again for eternity?

Dende told him Vegeta and Bulma had gone domestic and started raising Trunks together. Goku and ChiChi had a second son, and Gohan struggled not to feel replaced. It was a silly notion, but he couldn't help it.

He would have thought his mother would have made his brother study like he'd had to, but when he found out Goten lived a carefree life full of play, he couldn't help but feel jilted. Why had they treated him so differently?

It confused him more than it made him angry. He did want to meet Goten; his hurt wasn't directed at his brother, but at his parents and friends. They had all moved on with their lives, and he would have wanted them to- but-

It hurt to be forgotten.

Moping around the Lookout for a few days did nothing to soften Piccolo's view toward the Z-Fighters. Gohan supposed someone else might be mad at them, but he didn't have the heart.

After a few months of indecision and learning basic motor skills again, he knew he would never reach the level he'd been at before.

"I don't think your body will ever channel ki like it used to," Dende informed him sadly.

"It does fine with your healing ki," Gohan said, almost pleading.

"That's positive energy. Ki is neutral, and negative energy is dangerous. I'm sorry, Gohan, but there's nothing I can do."

Gohan had crashed, spending the afternoon under a tree before he asked Dende to teach him how to use positive energy. They weren't sure if he could heal like a Namek could, but Dende promised to try.

This brought them to their current location: barricaded in the Lookout with numerous texts and scrolls on ki manipulation strewn about on the floor, Dende holding both of Gohan's hands in his after days of practice. He'd passed out once, prompting Piccolo to come raging in demanding they go at a slower pace.

Gohan didn't think he'd ever seen something so ironic and endearing.

Now, though, he felt triumphant. He refused to be useless, even if he couldn't fight. A small bead of white energy rested in his palms, flickering slightly. "Excellent, Gohan," Dende gushed.

Gohan grinned and slowly got up, leaving his cane behind to stumble outside. "Piccolo-saaaan!" he yelled, waiting for his teacher to descend in front of him. "Look!" he held up the light.

Piccolo smirked down at him, holding out his hand and letting the ki dance around his fingers. "Excellent, Gohan."

Gohan laughed. "That's what Dende said. I know it's not much, but…"

"Don't degrade yourself," Piccolo advised-slash-ordered. He ruffled Gohan's hair before Dende came out, a pile of scrolls in his arms.

"I found a tome on magic and energy used to heal ailments by ancient monks," he rambled. "I think it'll help!"

Gohan started to shiver from the energy he was expending to stay upright. "Thanks, Dende," he said. "Do you think I'll be able to heal as well as you one day?"

In truth, Dende had no idea, but he smiled nonetheless. "Of course you will."

* * *

Gohan shifted from foot to foot nervously, holding onto Dende's robes. Piccolo had chosen to stay behind; Gohan had a feeling it had something to do with how he felt about Goku these days.

They stood in front of the door, listening to sounds of laughter and the light tinkling of glass from within. "W-what if…" Gohan stammered, gulping. "Everything's different." He deflated slightly.

Dende gave him a sympathetic look. "Don't worry, Gohan. Everything'll work out fine." The Guardian lifted his hand and rapped three times on the Son household's door.

"Coming!" ChiChi's voice called from within. Gohan wrung his hands together, heart thumping when the door swung open.

"What's u-" Goku froze, grin falling as his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Behind him, ChiChi had her back turned, washing the dishes with a boy wearing an orange gi drying them.

For a moment, the Saiyan merely stared, before breathing out a shaky, "G-Gohan?"

Dende nodded.

Gohan yelped when the ground disappeared out from under him. Goku's arms were wrapped around him so tight it hurt, crushing him to his chest as he buried his face in Gohan's hair, breathing heavily. "Kami," he said, voice wavering. " _How?_ "

"Goku, who's there?" ChiChi yelled, drying her hands as she turned around. Her eyes fell on Goku standing outside, his back to her, hugging someone tightly to him, and her heart started racing. _It couldn't be, could it?_

"Chi," Goku yelled back, sounding close to tears. "Come out here."

Goten blinked up at them in confusion, looking back and forth between them and Dende, who he had never met before.

"Can't breathe, Dad," Gohan squeaked out, patting his shoulder lightly. Goku quickly loosened his grip but didn't let go, whirling around as ChiChi walked out the door with a confused and hopeful look on her face.

A wordless cry escaped ChiChi's lips. She rushed forward until they were a tangle of limbs, rambling indiscernibly and pressing kisses to Gohan's forehead. "Oh, Gohan, sweetie," she wept, cupping his face in her hands and examining him. "What happened to you?"

"I, um, got pulled into a spiritual wasteland where lost souls waste away to nothing after Cell snapped my spine," Gohan said, making Goku go rigid. ChiChi's face filled with horror. "Piccolo-san and Dende used the Dragon Balls to bring me back."

"You- you remember the whole fight?" she asked, voice wobbling.

"Yeah." Gohan cast his eyes toward the ground. "It…didn't let me forget."

"Why don't you three go inside?" Dende asked lightly, holding his hand out to Goten. "Hello, Goten. I'm Dende. Take a walk with me?"

Goten, of course, had heard of Dende, and yelled in excitement as he rushed forward to follow him toward the forest.

ChiChi hurried them inside. Gohan noted that the house had gotten larger- it had a second story and a larger living area. Goku set him down on the couch, him and ChiChi sitting less than two inches away on either side of him.

"Gohan," ChiChi said, sounding out of breath. "Tell us everything that happened."

"There isn't much to tell," Gohan smiled nervously. "Dende and Piccolo-san pulled me out a few months ago."

"A few months?!" Surprisingly, it was Goku who got angry. "Why the hell did they wait so long to tell us?!"

Gohan jumped slightly, stunned at his father for using even a mild curse word. "They didn't want to get your hopes up," he said, trying to spin a believable reason. "They knew you'd already gotten…closure."

"C-clo-?" ChiChi suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes watering. "Gohan, I swear we didn't want to give up hope, but we thought-"

"I know what you thought," Gohan interrupted her quietly, eyes on the floor. "It's fine. I don't want to talk about it."

"Why would they even be worried about that?" Goku asked, frowning as he tilted his head. Gohan thought suddenly that he seemed much more perceptive. He matched his father's frown, feeling like he'd just walked into a different world.

"I looked like a skeleton when I came through," he said, making their eyes widen. "The Waste- it- well- it reduces souls who go there to empty shells and rips out any sense of self you have. I completely forgot who I was in there. I couldn't see anything, hear anything, feel anything- it took months for me to even be able to stay conscious for five minutes, let alone remember my own name correctly." A shadow fell across his eyes. "My body hadn't had any food or water for eight years, and it was filled with negative ki." Which brought him to his last point. He gritted his teeth.

"It burnt me out completely. I can't walk for ten minutes without needing to rest. I lose more weight than what I gain. I can't summon my ki without passing out. I can barely manage to summon positive healing ki right now. I don't think…" Gohan stubbornly kept his gaze from his father. "I'll be able to fight like I used to ever again."

A stunned silence filled the room, broken only by the occasional sound that escaped ChiChi's hands over her mouth.

"I'm s-sorry," Gohan said. _Keep it together. Just get to the end._

"What?" asked Goku, incredulous. "What're you apologizing for?"

"I couldn't beat Cell," Gohan continued, ignoring the cheep his mother made. "You trusted me and all I did was fail you." He ducked his head, cringing, waiting for Goku to brush it off, laugh and say it was okay, and thus make him feel worse. "I'm useless now, I can't be the fighter you wanted me to. All I've done is disappoint you."

"What? Gohan- no. Gohan- Gohan-" Goku stammered, hardly knowing what to say. "Just- _no_. I should never have made you fight that _monster_ ," he sounded like he had a hard time not calling Cell something worse. " _I_ should have been the one who fought him. I pushed you too hard, too far- you're just a kid. I shouldn't have put that on your shoulders."

 _Who knew Dad was one for waxing poetic,_ Gohan kept his head down, unconvinced. He felt out of place. His home was different. His parents were _way_ different. ChiChi wasn't even yelling.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered, getting up and leaning heavily on his cane. Goku and ChiChi both zeroed in on it, not having noticed it before. He'd barely managed to keep his grip on it during Goku's frenzy to get ahold of him. Shakily, he walked toward the hall, cringing at the eyes on his back, and probably the curve of his spine visible through his robes. He paused in front of the pictures on the wall, roving over them with his eyes.

The centerpiece was of the Son family, including the Ox-King, at what looked like one of Goten's birthday parties. He looked to be about four or five, and he wore a replica of Goku's training gi. There was a variety of toys on the floor- no trace of books like Gohan's birthdays had always had. The other pictures were various snapshots of their lives- a Halloween where Goku was dressed as Frankenstein, ChiChi as a doctor, and Goten as a vampire, a Christmas dinner where Goku and Goten were in identical poses diving for a gigantic turkey while ChiChi facepalmed, a spring dinner outside with Krillin, 18 and Marron- with Goku and ChiChi getting progressively happier and less depressed-looking as Goten got older.

ChiChi was sparring with a golden-haired Goten in one of them.

Gohan didn't realize he was crying until a tear dropped onto his knuckles, clenching the handle of his cane until they turned white. "I, ah," he stammered, "I should-"

The door swung open with a bang, making him jump, flinching. Neither of his parents failed to notice, frowning at him.

Goten ran in, giggling. "Mom! Dad! Dende is so cool he-" He stopped short in front of Gohan, grin slipping from his face in favor of a confused look. "Who's he?"

Gohan accidentally let out a sob, struggling to regain his composure. They hadn't even told his own brother about him? Did they want to forget him that badly? He would have wanted them to move on and be happy, but there wasn't even a trace of him here to remember him by.

"Goten, sweetie!" ChiChi got up in a hurry, Goku on her heels. "This is-"

"Just an old friend," Gohan wheezed, breathing labored. "Just an old friend. I'm Gohan. Nice to meet you."

Goten reached up to shake his hand, grinning. "My great-grandpa was named Gohan! That's so cool! It's nice to meet you too!" His grip hurt Gohan's hand, and he winced, but smiled through it. He had a feeling that with how hyper-focused they were on him, they had noticed that too, and felt embarrassment settle in his gut. "You're really thin, mister. Do you eat enough? My mommy can make you some food!"

"There's no need!" Gohan exclaimed, cutting ChiChi off. She looked to be panicking as she rapidly lost control of the situation.

"Gohan, hold on, we should really-" Goku began, reaching toward him. Gohan limped toward the door, giving Dende a pleading look as he cut him off.

"No, really, it was nice seeing you again but I have to go," Gohan said. "Dende."

Dende placed a hand on his shoulder. "Okay, Mr. Popo. Teleport us back," he said.

"Hold on!" Goku reached for them frantically, but they disappeared in a flash of light. Goten looked on, confused, as he turned back to his family. "I'm going to get him," he promised ChiChi, making relief flash across her face. He whipped back around, placing two fingers on his forehead, and disappeared.

* * *

Gohan shrugged off the robe Dende had lent him as soon as they appeared in the Lookout's teleport room. Everything felt hot.

"Gohan, are you-" Dende started.

"I'm fine, don't worry," Gohan interrupted in a rush, smiling thinly before hurrying to the door and stepping into the sunlight, shielding his eyes.

Piccolo greeted him immediately, looking worried. "What happened?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Gohan deflated. "It's just-"

"Gohan!" Goku appeared behind them, making Gohan flinch. "Are you-"

"What're you doing here, Son?" Piccolo growled, hackles rising. Goku's gaze narrowed to a cold glare as they stared each other down.

"I'm here to talk to my son."

"Both of you cut it out," Dende snapped in a hostile voice, nipping their impending argument in the bud and making everyone look at him in shock as Mr. Popo, who had been watching them nervously, nearly drop his watering can. "This isn't about you. It isn't helping who matters right now." He pointed his staff at Gohan, who was exceptionally pale as he swayed slightly. He walked over to support him as they both looked slightly ashamed.

"I'm gonna go lie down," Gohan murmured, not looking anyone in the eye. "Just go, Dad. Mom and Goten are probably worried."

"Not unless you come with me," Goku replied, forehead creased. "I don't understand. Why don't you want to come home?"

Gohan stood awkwardly as everyone stared at him. Goku looked heartbroken, and Piccolo looked ready to haul the Saiyan off the Lookout if Gohan said to.

"I can't right now," he said finally, "I just can't. Isn't that enough?"

Goku fell silent, face falling. "…that's enough." It pained him to say it. Gohan breathed a sigh of relief. "Can you at least tell me why? If it's what makes you happy, I'll never come to see you again. Just tell me why."

Gohan gave him a horrified look. "I don't want to never see you again!" he said. "I just can't come home right now. I can't take waking up every morning knowing I'll be disappointing you, watching you and Goten and _**Mom**_ spar when I can't. I can't take sitting at a desk from sun-up to sundown studying calculus and biology like Mom wants. I can't look around and feel like I'm intruding on the new life you've made without me." A hurt expression passed over his face. "You didn't even tell Goten about me," he finished in a whisper.

"Gohan, we just never- found the right time," Goku said desperately. "It hurt so much to talk about you. We thought you were gone forever, and we didn't want to disappoint him and tell him about his brother when he'd just wonder why he wasn't there. We wanted to give him the life you didn't get to have where he didn't have to lose anybody. We would have told him when he got older."

Gohan locked his jaw, looking down at the tile flooring. "…okay," he said, shrugging.

"And don't you ever think you disappoint me. What happened to you was my fault. I know now that you don't like fighting like me. I'm just sorry I didn't see it before," Goku hunched his shoulders, peering down at him with a small glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I've always been proud of you."

Gohan stubbornly refused to let a single tear escape his eyes, continuing to stare at the floor. "I'm going to go lie down now," he repeated quietly, turning and leaning on Dende as he hobbled into the Lookout's bedrooms. He tried not to hear the small, pained noise Goku made before he disappeared, or the hiss that escaped Piccolo, or the sniffle Mr. Popo made, and he tried not to feel like it was all his fault.

Just like with Cell, he failed at all four.

* * *

"He thinks I'll make him study all day?!" ChiChi shrieked, hands tangled in her hair. "He can never study again if he wants if he'll just _come home_!" she burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. Goku wrapped his arms around her, running a hand through her hair.

"He's confused," he whispered. "Neither of us considered what _he_ wanted when we had him."

"And then he comes home and sees Goten, who's never had to fight a serious battle in his life," ChiChi sniffled, clenching her eyes shut. "And who's had both parents around his whole life and I _spar_ with him, Goku. Gohan must feel like he doesn't have a place here anymore."

"Well then," Goku said, face turning determined. "We'll just have to convince him that he does."

From the top of the stairs, Goten peeked around the corner into the kitchen. He scooted back across the floor and ran down the hall to the empty room that had been in his house since he was small. ChiChi had told him it was a "guest room", but he'd always thought it was made for someone specific.

Now he _knew_ it was made for that Gohan boy.

He picked up the phone on the nightstand, dialing Trunks' number and waiting for him to pick up.

"Trunks? It's Goten. I need your help." He peeked out the door to make sure no one was coming up the stairs before lowering his voice to a whisper. "I think I may have a brother…"


	4. Chapter 4

It had been arduous to get Piccolo to agree to let him leave the Lookout alone.

"No."

"But Piccolo-saaaaaaan!"

"A breeze could knock you over right now."

"Icarus will take me!"

"A lizard can't protect you."

"He's as big as a horse now! Sure he can!"

"Come on, Piccolo. We've been at peace for several years now," Dende had cut in. Gohan had pulled out the wide, barely-not-watering eyes he'd used to get Piccolo to read to him when he was eight once and quickly been on his way. (Albeit with Dende keeping an eye on him from the Lookout edge.)

Icarus crowed, doing loops in the air. He'd reacted like an overeager puppy when Gohan went to see him. Gohan laughed, wrapping his arms tighter around the dragon's neck as they landed with a light thud. "Thanks, buddy!"

He slid to the ground, smiling. Piccolo's waterfall was much unchanged, although the grass grew to his knees now and there were flowers blooming near the edge of the water.

He walked to the center of the clearing, Icarus huddling down to support him. Flopping down in the grass, he let out a contented sigh. Icarus lay down behind his head, wrapping his tail around him partially to keep him warm.

The peace was disrupted by a rustling in the bushes to his right. Gohan frowned slightly, but kept his eyes closed, acting like he was asleep.

Whoever was there was quite bad at sneaking around.

"Lemme see, Trunks! I wanna see!"

 _Trunks?_

Gohan opened his eyes, looking right at the bushes. There was a squeak.

"Come out, you two," he sighed and sat up, leaning against Icarus' side.

Two sheepish-looking heads appeared, followed by the rest of them, clothed in orange and blue gis, respectively. Goten and Trunks stood in front of him, looking awkward and trying not to gawk at him. "What do you two want?"

"W-we wanted to ask you some questions, mister!" Goten squinted at him. "Hey, you aren't much older than me and Trunks!"

"Trunks and I," Gohan corrected on instinct.

Trunks frowned, tilting his head and crossing his arms. "You're not very strong, are you?"

"Trunks!" Goten hissed.

Gohan smiled sadly. "It's okay. No, I'm not. I used to be, but I got hurt some time ago and I can't fight anymore."

Trunks' eyes went wide. "O-oh. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. Why don't you two sit down and tell me why you came out here?"

The two shifted from foot to foot, not sitting down. "Are you my brother?!" Goten blurted out, eyes round as little moons.

Gohan's eyebrows shot up. "Um."

"You look like him and his parents and they know you so," Trunks said, shrugging.

"Are you?!" Goten asked, bouncing up and down. "That'd be so cool! I've always wanted a brother or sister!"

"Ah…" Gohan coughed into his hand. "Well, yes, but…"

"Yay!" Goten squealed, leaping to rush forward. Trunks caught him by the gi. "What, Trunks?"

"How come you've never been around?" Trunks demanded, eyes narrowing. Gohan smiled a little, glad Goten had such a protective friend.

"I've been dead," he said lightly, watching their jaws drop. "Do you know the Cell Games?"

"Yeah, everybody does."

"I fought there, but I died. I didn't go to the Other World, but my soul fell into sort of a wasteland for dead people where they deteriorate. Piccolo-san used the Dragon Balls to get me out."

"Piccolo?" they chorused, confused. He frowned at them.

"Yeah, you know. Seven feet tall, green, wears a cape?"

"My daddy doesn't get along with him," Goten said. Trunks crossed his arms.

"I've met him once or twice, but he's even more grumpy than my dad. Why would he want to get you out?"

Gohan arched on eyebrow. "Erm…he's my best friend. He taught me how to fight," he told them.

"Seriously?" Trunks squawked, gawking at him. "Piccolo did? Didn't Goten's dad teach you?"

"No, he was dead at the time."

"Daddy _died_?!" Goten squeaked out. Gohan sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

"It appears I have a history lesson to give…"

* * *

"And then Frieza-" Gohan said, waving his hands in the air to illustrate his point. Goten and Trunks sat cross-legged on the ground in front of him, watching him with rapt attention. He found he liked telling his stories to them- they were looking at him in a sort of awe that he didn't feel he deserved, though.

"Wow! You did all that when you were younger than us?" Goten said, "You're awesome!"

Gohan chuckled. "Well, unfortunately, I'm not anything like I used to be…" he looked down at himself.

"That doesn't matter. I mean, you died trying to save everyone, right? So you're awesome," Goten grinned. Gohan felt a smile tugging at his lips.

He hoped they didn't ask just _how_ he died. He didn't want to taint Goten's view of their father- to him, he'd always been around, always been there taking care of and protecting his family, and the boy obviously saw him through rose-tinted glasses. He didn't want to mess it up.

In a way, it felt like they had two completely different fathers, and the one Gohan'd had was dead.

"You two should probably get back to Goten's house," he said, planting his cane on the ground to stand. They both leapt up, grabbing his forearms.

"Won't you come with me?" Goten asked, eyes wide and hopeful. "It's your house too!"

"I…I don't think I quite fit in, Goten," Gohan smiled down at him reassuringly. "It's not that I don't want to live with you, I just…" He shrugged awkwardly.

"But you're my brother," Goten said, heartbroken. "Is it Daddy and Mommy, were they really different when you were the only kid they had?"

The kid was more perceptive than he looked. "Yes," Gohan said hesitantly. "Things are just different now, Goten. Besides, I like living at the Lookout with Piccolo-san."

Trunks twisted his face comically. "It's still weird that he was nice once."

"He _is_ nice, you just have to get to know him."

"Suuure, whatever you say."

"Goten!" a voice called from the trees. "Where are you?"

"Over here, Daddy!" Goten shouted at the top of his lungs, cupping his hands around his mouth. Gohan reached for him, opening his mouth to ask him not to give him away, but he was cut off. "Gohan's here!" Gohan winced at the volume.

Goku appeared in front of them like he was starving and someone had just shouted 'free food'. "Gohan!" he exclaimed, face lighting up.

"H-hi, Dad," Gohan said awkwardly, lifting one hand in a wave from the grass. He found it hard to stare his father in the face for more than a few seconds, so he quickly averted his eyes to the space between Trunks and Goten. "I was just telling Trunks and Goten they should get back. Sorry I kept them."

"You don't have to apologize!" Goten looked back and forth between them. "Why don't you come for lunch? ChiChi's made enough, believe me, we'd love it if you did."

"I don't think-"

"Yeah!" Goten crowed, leaping up and raising his fists into the air. "Come to lunch! Please?" he turned wide, shimmering eyes on Gohan, who froze.

"Um…I suppose…it couldn't hurt…"

Gohan couldn't hold back a cringe when he got up. He'd been sitting down too long again. "Are you okay?" Goten asked, grabbing one of his hands in worry. Gohan did his best to smile, but it came off shaky.

"I'm fine, Goten."

"I'll just take us back with Instant Transmission," Goku said quickly, wrapping an arm around Gohan's shoulders. "Come on, boys."

Goten and Trunks both grabbed part of his gi. They flickered into existence in the Son living room, making Gohan stumble. He'd forgotten how disorienting that was.

Goku's hands snapped out to steady him. "ChiChi!" he called. "We're back for lunch. Gohan's here, too."

Something clattered to the floor in the kitchen. "C-coming!" ChiChi yelled in a rush, speed-walking out with a gigantic platter of food in an instant with a smile plastered on her face. "Gohan-chan!"

Gohan sweatdropped. "Um, hi." He ducked his head and looked around, wondering why they weren't going into the kitchen. His mother was always adamant about eating at the table.

ChiChi sat the platter on the coffee table, taking a seat in an armchair. "Uh…" Gohan trailed off uncertainly.

"Here." Goku took him by the arm and led him to a chair. Gohan sat down with trepidation, watching as Goten immediately started to dig in, stuffing sandwiches into his mouth at an alarming rate.

Goku and ChiChi were watching him like hawks, trying to look inconspicuous and failing miserably. Gohan's stomach churned; the last thing he wanted right now was food.

"Y-you know what, I'm not that hungry," he laughed nervously. He could hear Dende already chastising him on not eating enough. Gohan rubbed the part of his ribs that poked through his skin, feeling nauseous just watching Goten eat that fast.

Goten paused, looking up with a tilted head before his face lit up. "Oh, wait! You're sick, right? Trunks' mom never likes to watch me eat when she's sick either," he said sheepishly, putting his sandwich down and scooting off his chair. "Wait here!" he ran into the hall and up the stairs.

An awkward silence hung in the air. Gohan stared at the doorway.

"Gohan," ChiChi turned to him, concern heavy in her tone. "You don't look any better. Are you doing all right?"

Gohan shrugged, biting his lip and trying to ignore the soreness the unfamiliar gesture gave him. "I'm fine, Mother."

"You're not fine," Goku replied, examining him closely. Gohan fidgeted. "You know you need to eat. You're half-Saiyan, for Pete's sake."

Gohan rubbed one of his temples, feeling a headache start to form. "I know. It's just hard. Do you… do you remember what you felt like when you came down with the heart virus? It wasn't like when someone punched you, was it?"

"No," Goku rubbed the back of his head. "It was different. Kind of worse, in a way."

Gohan shrugged. "That's every day for me."

Before Goku could answer, Goten careened back into the room, grinning. "I made this for you!" he crowed, skidding to a stop in front of Gohan. He held a necklace made of what looked like scrap leather with a large tooth attached. "I got it from a sabertooth in the woods!"

Gohan crossed his eyes to stare at it before he started to chuckle. "I hope it's the one that tried to eat me," he smiled, bending his head so Goten could stuff it over his neck. ("Eat you?" ChiChi squawked.) "Th-thanks, Goten."

Goten's grin just widened as he stood on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around Gohan's neck. "You'll come see us again, won't you?!"

"I-I- sure I will." Gohan ruffled Goten's hair before he looked back to his parents, who were staring at them. "I should go back now…"

"I'll take you," Goku said quicky, standing up. "You don't have to fly all the way back."

"Oh. Um. Thank you." Gohan didn't want Piccolo to see Goku again, frankly, but it sounded better than another trip through the sky. It had exhausted him.

They both stood; Goku placed a hand on his shoulder. Gohan waved to his mother, who looked ready to cry again, before he disappeared.

He managed to stay still this time, but it was still disorienting. "Son." Gohan looked around, finding Piccolo standing a mere few feet away and looking imposing. His arms were crossed and his eyes were narrowed.

"Piccolo," Goku greeted, trying to sound semi-friendly. The two stared at each other until Gohan limped over to his teacher, grinning.

"Piccolo-san," he said with an eye-smile, completely missing the tension in the air. "Goten and Trunks are really nice. They think you're an ice king," he laughed.

Piccolo looked down at him and smirked. "They would."

Goku wondered if this was how Gohan felt; like he was intruding on someone else's moment, and didn't have the place he once had. "I'll see you later, Gohan," he said, giving them a two-fingered salute before disappearing.

He reappeared in the forest, walking slowly towards his home with his arms crossed and his gaze on the ground. Ever since Gohan had walked out their door after coming back, his heart had hurt, and he knew ChiChi's did as well. He didn't blame Gohan for not wanting to be around after what he did, however.

Truthfully, Cell hadn't been the worst one on the planet that day. He was a monster, but what sort of person let his own child fight someone like Cell all on their own?

Every night since, he had heard Gohan screaming in his sleep, seen him in Cell's grip while he was frozen to his spot, helpless to do anything to help. Goku felt almost revulsion at his past self- how had he just stood there watching? How had he stood there while his son's spine was snapped in half like a twig? While his ribs shattered and blood filled his lungs, and his chest cavity started to cave in?

What sort of a person did _that_ and called themselves a hero?

Goku quickly scrubbed at his eyes, trying to expel the images from his head. For the first few weeks, he hadn't left his and ChiChi's bedroom, stuck in a depressed haze. Vegeta had come in like a bull in a china cabinet, punching him in the eye and demanding he get off his backside and help the group. Their efforts were wide and varied- from searching out weird mystics who had ties to the spirit realm, to seers on other planets who claimed they could speak with the dead. Nothing had worked.

They'd tried for years. He'd quickly fallen into denial, telling himself it was going to be fixed- they'd all died before, and they'd all come back. They'd find Gohan and go home laughing.

As the years went on, Gohan's absence grew larger and larger, leaving a black hole in his wake. Goku couldn't stop thinking about the days before the Cell Games, where he'd been happy and alive and just-turned eleven. So sure that Goku had a plan to beat Cell and not even worried. Unaware his own father would be his undoing.

He'd caught a glimpse of Gohan's body before it disappeared. Blood had been gushing everywhere; his back was bent at an odd angle, and face was frozen in pain. From that day, that picture had been seared on the backs of his eyelids; it was the first thing he saw when he woke up and the last thing he saw when he went to sleep, and often what he saw in between.

It reminded him of what he'd forgotten over the years- the permanency of death. It reminded him of when his Grandpa Gohan had died, and the cold pit in his stomach when he found out he'd been the one to trample him to death.

There wasn't any difference now. He'd might as well have been the one to kill Gohan himself.

The crushing defeat he'd felt- that they'd all felt- after years of silence was enough to make their group dissolve slightly. He'd lost contact with Tien and Chiaotzu; Yamcha rarely called on any of them. Krillin and his little girl sometimes came to visit, but they lived hours away, and didn't come often. As for Vegeta, he retreated to the confines of his gravity chamber.

He also hadn't been away from his son a day since the Cell Games.

The Prince had been the last one to give up and start moving on. It had come as a cold realization that Vegeta respected Gohan- that even in death, Gohan was softening the hearts of former murderers and monsters.

Goten was the one joy in their lives. ChiChi threw herself into raising him, letting him train with Goku and learn to fly at an early age just to make him happy. She had watched Gohan die on screen, and it had nearly broken her completely. Goku loved both of them more than life, but even after they started to try and move forward, there was a hole in his chest nothing could fill. He'd been young when he married ChiChi- at first, he didn't even know what marriage _was_ and thought it was a food- and he'd certainly liked her well enough at first, even growing romantic affection for her, but he'd only really fallen in love with her after Gohan had been born. His friends had always been important to him, but Gohan had been his _child_ , a part of him. Goku had fallen in love with his son instantly; the minute he'd held that tiny child with a tail just like the one he'd had when he was a kid was the first time he looked at something and thought, "It's my job to take care of them." It had been the first time he was really tethered to anything- he had raised himself from a young age and lived the life of a nomad, his home being that of a flying yellow cloud and a radar in his hands, but when he held Gohan, he was content with staying in the same house with the same people for years to come.

Along the way, he'd forgotten that; he'd forgotten- or, rather, abandoned- his job. Goku wondered when he had changed- was it after he went to Other World for the first time? After Namek? After the androids first appeared? Was it just the culmination of years' worth of thirsting for bigger and badder opponents as his own power increased that made him use his son as a weapon against someone he should have taken on himself? Or was it just that the change to golden hair and green eyes made one forget how precious the lives of their loved ones were?

And then, one day, he'd swung open the door to see Gohan- crippled, weak, nervous, beautiful, constantly in pain and refusing to show it Gohan- only to lose him again right after. Even when he was sparring, Goku worried almost constantly; what if he fell off the Lookout and couldn't fly? What if he didn't eat enough? What if he _died_ again?

Pausing, he resolved to visit the Lookout more often as Goten saw him from the kitchen window and ran outside to greet him. Piccolo might Special Beam Cannon him through the chest again, but he wasn't letting this chance slip through his fingers. All he wanted was to have his son back and for Goten to have a big brother across the hall; all he wanted was for them to finally be a family again.

* * *

"I'm not sure, Dende."

"You'll have to try it sometime, Gohan. Don't worry, I'll be here the whole time in case you can't do it. We do it on Namek all the time; it's a highly supervised process."

Gohan frowned, chewing his lip. "Well, okay."

He slid off the Nimbus cloud, which buzzed excitedly before zipping away. He followed Dende into the forest, leaning on his staff; it was more suited for traversing nature.

Dende stopped beneath a tree, lifting off the ground and floating near a branch. Gohan looked away when he gently took a bird within his palms, breaking one of its wings and floating back down.

"Don't worry, I've numbed all the pain," Dende said, petting the bird's head. One of its wings was bent at an odd angle now, although it hardly seemed to notice, chirping cheerfully up at them. "It's all right, Gohan. He doesn't even feel it. This is only the way we use to learn how to heal so we can help all living things when we're needed."

Sighing, Gohan turned to look at the bird, wincing. He placed his hands over the creature, spreading soothing waves of energy over Dende's palms.

Dende watched with a grin as the bird's wing slowly knit itself back together until it could move it with no problem. Gohan ceased, breathing a little heavier than normal, and the bird leapt from Dende's hands and flew back up to its perch. Dende placed his hands on Gohan's shoulders. "That was perfect, Gohan!"

"Can't we practice in, like, hospitals?" Gohan whined. "I don't like breaking things just to practice fixing them."

"I didn't think of that," Dende said in surprise. "Okay. Let's try a hospital."

* * *

"A little to the right," Gohan whispered, one arm wrapped tightly around Dende's neck. He reached for the window latch, slowly easing it open. Dende lifted him into the hospital room, slowly coming in after him.

A middle-aged man lay asleep on the bed, his leg in a cast. Dende placed a hand on Gohan's back and pulled him to the man's beside, patting his shoulder encouragingly. "Go ahead."

Gohan extended his hands, focusing his power on the man's leg. The odd, quiet ringing sound that was produced whenever Dende healed filled the room, and he exhaled slowly, trying to quell the butterflies in his stomach.

Gohan retracted his hands a little nervously, looking to Dende. "Um, how do I know if it worked?"

Dende hovered one hand over the man's leg, spreading his own energy over it. "It worked, Gohan. That was great."

The man's eyes slowly creaked open. He blinked several times, eyes landing on Dende, before a scream exited his mouth and he started to thrash on the bed. Gohan and Dende jumped, jerking back a step as he started to scream for the nurse.

Footsteps pounded down the hall. Gohan squeaked, clutching his staff with both hands, and Dende grabbed him around the waist before taking a running jump out the window. Gohan shrieked in surprise, not expecting this turn of events, before he burst into laughter, watching the nurse peek her head out the window as the man shouted and pointed.

Dende flew off at top speed, sweatdropping. "That didn't go as well as I'd thought it would," he said. "Nimbus!" he yelled.

A small yellow cloud darted out of the sky, coming to a stop beside them. Dende deposited Gohan onto it, mouth quirking at his laughter. Chuckles started to pour out of his mouth, before they were both holding their stomachs and wiping away tears, sitting idle in the sky.

Dende quieted himself, one hand over his eyes. "Next time we go for the coma patients."


	5. Chapter 5

Gohan's back ached.

He shifted beneath the covers, trying to find a more comfortable position. If anything, it just made the pain worse, so he flipped the blankets off him with a sigh and sat up, wincing.

"No pain, no game, right," he murmured, heaving himself up and reaching blindly for his walking stick. He made his way past a sleeping Dende (he'd thought Namekians didn't sleep at all, but Dende seemed to like it, at least) outside, taking a breath of fresh air.

Piccolo floated outside the window, deep in meditation. His ears twitched slightly, but Gohan had figured out at this point that when he was that deep, it was similar to someone dozing; if he was very, very, _very_ quiet, he wouldn't wake him.

He made his way slowly to his favorite tree, sitting down beneath its leaves and leaning against it with a weary sigh.

His senses were shot, but he could faintly feel Piccolo's and Dende's energies, steady like a heartbeat. When he couldn't lay an ear against one of their chests and hear their actual heartbeats, he liked to reach out with the charred tendrils of his mind and find their ki, just focusing on it until he fell back to sleep.

Sure enough, his eyelids began to drift shut a few minutes later, but fluttered back open when the breeze began to pick up, cold and sharp. Shivering, he curled up slightly, not feeling like moving back to his bed.

Finding something to focus on other than how cold he was, Gohan slowly edged his senses out, wandering around to find the limits of what he could feel.

It seemed to become oddly quiet out. Gohan furrowed his eyebrows and listened harder, but everything had gone quiet- the breeze, the grass rustling, even Popo's birds weren't making a peep.

In confusion, he opened his eyes, wondering if he was dreaming.

Black.

Startled, Gohan jerked up, reaching up to his eyes. Nothing lay over them, but he couldn't see; frantically, he tried to call out, but he heard nothing. It was just like being in the Waste, even if he could still feel his body.

Hands grabbed at his shoulders, and he reached out in a panic, clutching somebody's clothing. What he recognized as Piccolo's arms wrapped around him and kept his arms still, while Dende's warm energy began to hover over his forehead.

After an agonizingly long time, the blackness started to slowly fade, in bits and pieces, to muted tones and greys, while voices began to filter into his head, too quiet to make out at first. Faintly, he registered Dende muttering reassurances, and Mr. Popo's nervous jittering.

The Lookout bled into focus all at once with startling clarity. Gohan jolted, sucking in a deep breath, and gasping several times just to hear himself breathe. The first thing he saw was Dende, looking down at him with worry written across his features.

"Gohan, can you hear me?" Piccolo asked.

"Yes," Gohan replied quietly, energy flooding out of his body and leaving him exhausted. "I couldn't see anything."

"It's all right, now," Dende said gently, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "Your mind just had a relapse. You're here, at the Lookout. We got you out."

"What if you're not real?" Gohan mumbled, eyes watery. For a moment, he remembered wandering through the desert, chasing after mirages he would forget almost instantly after catching up to them, haunted by those out of his reach. "The other ones said the same thing."

"We're real. We're right here with you. We got you out."

"Gohan," Piccolo interjected, one hand resting on his head. "You're not in the Waste anymore. You're _alive_."

Gohan focused on his heartbeat, letting his eyes drift closed.

 _Was_ he alive?

* * *

Gohan awoke to arguing.

"Come on! You seriously can't think we don't have the right to see him!"

"You don't."

"He's our friend, too, Piccolo."

"Oh, is he? I never would have noticed with the way you _left him for dead_."

"It'd been years! We couldn't have known!"

"Perhaps we should ask _Gohan_ if _he_ wants to see you."

"Why _wouldn't_ he, Dende?"

Gohan wished he could just pull the covers up over his head until they went away. Well, technically, he could, because Piccolo would "remove" them from the Lookout if he wanted him to. It wasn't as if he were mad at his friends- he was just too exhausted to deal with this right now.

With a feeble groan, he pulled himself out of bed and toward the door, pausing to lean on the door frame. The whole of the Z-Fighters were gathered outside, including his parents and brother. The only one not forming a mob around Piccolo and Dende in front of the door was Vegeta.

"Hey, guys," he said tiredly.

Every eye fell upon him. He'd always hated being the center of attention; wincing, he went slowly forward, making sure not to catch his staff in any of the spaces between the tiles. Kami and Dende had never managed to do that despite hundreds of years on the Lookout; evidently he just had bad luck. Or clumsiness. Either way, Piccolo had nearly had an aneurysm when he'd hit the floor hard enough to stun himself for several minutes.

"Gohan!" They rushed forward like the aforementioned mob, forming a circle around him. ChiChi immediately went in for a hug, followed by Goten, who wrapped himself around Gohan's legs.

"Hey, squirt," Gohan flinched at ChiChi's grip, ruffling Goten's hair. "How're you?"

"I'm great, big brother!" Goten grinned, showing a gap in his teeth. "The Tooth Fairy came last night!"

"Oh really?" Gohan didn't have the faintest clue what a 'Tooth Fairy' was. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "What did they want?"

Goten's jaw dropped. "You don't know the Tooth Fairy?" he squeaked, nearly shrieking when Gohan shook his head.

"How do you not?!" Trunks squawked.

ChiChi shifted guiltily. "You two, can you go play with Dende and Mr. Popo while we speak with Gohan?"

"Um." Gohan started to panic. He looked over at the Namekians with a pleading look. He wasn't _afraid_ , but he didn't want Dende leaving, either. He was nearly always the one who kept a fight from breaking out or shifted the attention away from him.

"Mr. Popo, take Trunks and Goten and show them the dining hall," Dende said calmly, not moving an inch. Mr. Popo took the children's' hands, leading them toward the Lookout's palace.

"Are you okay, Gohan? You look…er," said Krillin, rubbing the back of his head. Gohan blinked.

"Krillin, when did you grow hair?"

"Ahah, I did used to shave, you know!" Krillin laughed.

"If you've been back for a few months," Yamcha shot a dirty look at Piccolo, "why haven't you recovered yet? Don't Saiyan genes and senzu beans count for much?"

Gohan shifted, staring at the floor. "It's more complicated than that, Yamcha," Dende said gently. "The Waste doesn't just injure you. It scars your soul, your mind, _and_ your body. Gohan is likely the only person in existence to ever make it out. Have you ever been so hungry, so thirsty that it felt like your body was on fire?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Imagine that feeling amplified by a thousand for eight years straight. Not to mention we don't even know much about the Waste- only that it feeds on lost souls and runs off negative energy in the universe. Who knows what time distortion effects it has."

"What do you mean by lost souls, though?" Krillin tilted his head, chin in hand. "I mean, Gohan's always been really strong for his age. Look at all he's gone through!"

Gohan's stomach flipped. "The Waste," Dende paused, choosing his words carefully, "takes souls that are in so much pain that they start to break, a feat normally only accomplished in the underworld."

"What?" ChiChi looked at him, eyes demanding. "Gohan-chan, why wouldn't you tell us if you were in so much pain?"

Gohan shrugged. "It's not as if I knew my soul was breaking," he replied.

"It most likely only happened during his fight with Cell," Piccolo interrupted, arms crossed with a scowl. "Although it could have started years before."

"Piccolo is correct," Dende agreed. "Everyone's soul goes through pain, whether from loss, betrayal, hatred, what have you. The Cell Games is just the incident that …" He had been about to say 'broke him', but it was entirely too insensitive. Gohan had been strong and stable before Cell.

"I don't get it, though. We've all fought enemies like Cell before. Maybe not as powerful as him, but comparable with what levels we were at before. Why would Cell be any different?" Krillin continued.

"Maybe because his own father threw him to the wolf?" Piccolo snapped, fangs peeking over the edge of his lip. Goku flinched before glaring at him out of the corner of his eyes.

"Guys, don't start this again," Bulma hissed, putting an arm on ChiChi's shoulder.

Gohan shifted closer to Dende, feeling like hiding behind the Namek's robes.

"You're the one who didn't bother telling anyone for _months_ ," Yamcha shot back. "We deserved to know."

"You weren't even _looking_. You'd given up."

"That doesn't mean we didn't still care!"

"Guys, stop," Goku rubbed his forehead. "We shouldn't argue. Gohan's home now, and that's all that matters."

Piccolo narrowed his eyes at him, but didn't say anything.

"I think you guys should go home, now," Dende said, ever the voice of reason. "Gohan's tired and needs rest."

"But we just got here!" ChiChi exclaimed, frowning. "I'd like to spend some time with my son."

Gohan hadn't realized he was clutching a handful of Dende's sleeve until his friend's over hand folded over his own in a comforting manner. "Regardless, having so many people here is draining. Perhaps you should come back at another time."

Piccolo's face just screamed _Make that time never._

"We haven't seen him in almost nine years!" Krillin gawked at them. "They're his _parents_."

Vegeta snorted. It was the first noise he had made since he'd arrived. Their attention swiveled to him, leaning against a pillar with a blank expression. "Something to say, Vegeta?" Yamcha asked, glaring.

"Oh, nothing," the Prince replied, eyes closed and head tilted up. "I just find it blatantly amusing that you morons think 'but they're his parents' is a viable excuse. The woman was shrill enough a decade ago to knock a man's eardrums out, so why _would_ the brat want to go back to a home like that? A Saiyan has no place sitting in a chair all day staring at paper. On Planet _Vegeta_ , the crippled may not have been able to do battle, but they still had a use. And Kakarot may have been around for his second brat, but he did a crappy job with the first."

A stunned silence followed his mini-speech. And then, the anger started.

"Who're you to talk?" Yamcha snapped, "I doubt you're Father-of-the-Year yourself."

"Goku was a great dad," Krillin said defensively. "He made a mistake with Cell. But he's always loved Gohan."

"If leaving your brat to defend the planet against someone who is obviously capable of snapping their spine is 'love', I'd hate to see what you weaklings think hatred is. It _might_ even put the Saiyan version to shame."

"Like Saiyans were any better!"

"Actually, they didn't have relationships with their young. At the very least, however, they ensured their survival."

"Vegeta, stop," Bulma rubbed her eyes tiredly. "All of you! We didn't come up here to be at each other's' throats!"

"Yeah, why do you think we haven't met in four years?" 18 muttered sourly, a confused Marron in her arms.

Gohan didn't have the heart to ask them to leave. "Why don't…" he trailed off when no one listened to him. Clearing his throat, he spoke louder. "W-why don't you guys come back later? Just cool off for a bit."

ChiChi scowled, but obeyed. "Come on, Goten!" she yelled, turning and storming back toward Goku, who was upset but resigned. Two mini-Saiyans came bouncing out of the Lookout, grinning as they flocked to their respective mothers.

"I guess we'll see you later, Gohan," Krillin waved awkwardly at him and Gohan tried to muster a smile in return. The gang separated into four groups, walking to the edge and preparing to take off.

"Wait," Gohan yelled, stumbling forward a bit. "Vegeta, I want to talk to you."

They all turned around to gawk at him. " _What_?" ChiChi said, looking like she'd been run over by a bus.

Bulma gave Vegeta an uncertain look before nodding. "Please, Vegeta?" she asked.

Vegeta snorted, turning away from the hovercraft his family had come in. "Very well."

"Seriously?" Yamcha uttered in shock.

Gohan eyed them all. "Alone, please."

They looked like they'd been slapped in the face with a smelly fish. "Are you sure?" Goku asked, halfway between worried and put off by having Vegeta chosen over him.

"Yes, I'm sure. Piccolo-san, I know you'll listen anyway, but can we talk in private?" Gohan looked up with pleading eyes. Piccolo certainly didn't look happy about it, but he gave less of a fight than Gohan had expected, nodding his assent and giving Vegeta a warning look as he passed by.

Gohan turned and walked back toward the Lookout, hoping he wasn't making a stupid decision. Really, though, what was the worst that could happen?

* * *

"All right, Kakabrat. What do you want?"

Gohan slid into a seat with a relieved sigh, balancing his staff on his knees. Vegeta stood across from him with his arms crossed, looking bored. "I want you to tell me what happened after Cell killed me," he said, not expecting Vegeta's eyebrows to raise in surprise.

"Why not ask the Namek or your father or the bald one?"

"You're the only one who won't straight up lie to me or try to sugarcoat it," Gohan replied, leaning back in his chair. "I know I was too weak and that I failed, but I need answers as to what happened."

A strange expression flashed across Vegeta's face before he yanked out one of the chairs, sitting down. "Fine. After you dropped, Trunks and the Namek went insane and attacked Cell. Seeing as your father's idiotic plan had failed, the rest of us decided not to trust his ability to defeat Cell on his own and attacked."

Gohan wondered what it had been like. He'd seen Piccolo die for him before- that had been even more painful than when Raditz killed Goku. He'd felt such an immense amount of guilt that the only way to avoid being bogged down was to keep moving forward and not let himself think about it, only wishing Piccolo back.

"Cell made the mistake of killing the boy," Vegeta's upper lip lifted in a sneer, and Gohan started.

"He killed Trunks?!" he leaned forward in worry.

"Don't get all riled up, brat. We wished him back. I, however, made sure to make Cell understand just why _that_ was a bad idea," Vegeta scowled, hands tightening on his arms. "No android is going to kill a Saiyan and get away with it."

Gohan sweatdropped. Of _course_ Vegeta couldn't just come out and say "No one kills _my son_ and gets away with it."

"We blasted him into oblivion," Vegeta finished, sitting back.

Gohan frowned. "That's it?" he asked.

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

"No, no, just…I expected there to be more of a battle…"

"Well there wasn't. Was there anything _else_ you wanted to waste my time with?" Vegeta asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

"What happened between then and now? Why can't Piccolo and everyone else be in the same room without tearing at each other like a pack of wild dogs? It can't just be that they stopped looking for me."

"Oh, it really is as simple as that," Vegeta smirked, looking out the window. "They looked for a few years and then gave up like the weak-minded fools they are. Said they wanted _closure_ and to let you _rest in peace_. More like pieces."

Somehow, Vegeta's warped sense of humor and bluntness seemed to make him more comfortable. He felt like he was stepping on eggshells around his parents, but he didn't have to worry about that with Vegeta. He didn't even have to worry about trying to appear stronger than he was- the Prince was going to call him a weakling anyway.

"Why doesn't Piccolo-san look at you the same way, then?" Gohan queried, making Vegeta frown at him.

"What was that, brat?"

"Piccolo-san looks at everyone like he used to, like he hates them. I can see that you annoy him, but he doesn't look at you the same way," Gohan continued, watching Vegeta's face grow mildly uncomfortable. "I'm assuming Bulma either made you help or you were just connected in a weird second-hand experience sort of way. I'm guessing the latter. I have no illusions about us being any sort of friends. What I wonder is why doesn't he view you the same as the others?"

Vegeta stared at him in silence. Finally, after several moments, he simply uttered, "Ask the Namek. How am I supposed to know?" and swept out of the room, leaving Gohan confused.

He scratched his head, knowing Piccolo could hear him. "Piccolo-san?"

Piccolo's presence appeared behind him. "You're too shrewd for your own good," he said, the closest he'd ever come to complaining, before sitting down. "He was the last one to stop looking for you."

Gohan's eyes went round. "Wait, he actually looked of his own volition?"

"Yeah, kid. Back when we were traversing planets, he knew where to find the psychics and freaks with otherworldly powers. When the others gave up, he 'asked' a contact of his to keep inquiring after the Waste."

"Why would he even care, though?" Gohan frowned at the table. "If anything, I thought he'd be disgusted by me. I died because I was too weak."

Piccolo's fist slammed into the table, startling him and nearly making him jump out of his seat. He blinked at the seething look on Piccolo's face and tilted his head just slightly in a way reminiscent of when he was four. "Even if he had," the Namek growled, "it would have made him a fool. You did not _die_ because you were weak. You shouldn't have been fighting Cell in the first place."

Gohan folded his arms on the table and set his cheek on them. "It doesn't matter. Father trusted me to defeat him, and I failed."

With a noise of frustration, Piccolo pulled his head back up so they could glare eye-to-eye, him angrily and Gohan sullenly. "Do you remember Raditz?"

Thrown off by the sudden change in subject, Gohan paused, confused. "Uh, yeah…"

"Do you remember when I killed him and Goku?"

"Yeah." It said a lot about how many former enemies they had for friends that that didn't even phase him. To be honest, though, Piccolo could kill Goku now and Gohan would probably forgive him if he asked.

"Did Goku die because he was too weak?"

"Well, no," Gohan rested his cheek on his hand. "I mean, Raditz was just stronger than him at the time, and he did it to keep everyone safe. He did the best he-"

He cut off abruptly. "That's hardly the same!" he exclaimed, a little bit offended he'd been tricked like that. "I wasn't protecting anyone, I didn't step in to die in somebody's place! I just didn't measure up when that was what the world needed me to do the most."

Piccolo rubbed his forehead in frustration. "And what about when Goku let Frieza go on Namek, or when Vegeta let Cell absorb 18 for a challenge? Or when Goku refused to use the Dragon Balls to strike Gero preemptively and end the android threat before it even began? What about when Goku lounged about for days before Cell when he could have been training? Is you trying your best and not defeating Cell despite your hardest efforts worse than any of these?"

Gohan paused. "I- I don't know."

"And what, exactly, was holding you back during your fight with Cell? Fear? Pain? Were you in the right mindset to be fighting him? Did Goku discuss his plan with you? Were you aware you had even managed to reach another level of power in the Time Chamber? He never told you any of it, did he?"

"No," Gohan said quietly, feeling small; he had never considered anything Piccolo was saying before.

"So what could you have done? Would you blame Goku if an enemy had him by the throat and he was in too much pain to transform?" Gohan mutely shook his head. "What were you thinking just before you died?"

Gohan froze, eyes on the table. "…I don't remember."

"Yes, you do." Piccolo's eyes bored into his skull. "What was it, Gohan?"

"…'Father values a fair, exciting fight over my life,'" Gohan mumbled, sinking into his chair slightly.

"If it were Goten," said Piccolo, hammering the last nail into the coffin, "with Cell's arms wrapped around his ribcage, would you feel the same way? Is that what a father is supposed to do?"

"No." Water dripped onto the table top. Gohan wanted to wipe at his eyes, but was too embarrassed to admit to crying. Piccolo's hand settled on the side of his face, brushing his bangs out of his eyes so he could see them.

"What happened with Cell, Gohan?" he asked in a gentler tone.

"He killed me."

"Why?"

"Because he was a monster and… no one helped me."

"It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry I didn't get to you in time."

Gohan subconsciously leaned into the hand carding through his hair. "You tried. That's what matters. I'm not mad at them, but if you'd have given up looking for me I'd still be…there," he said, uneasy. "I think if I'd been there any longer, I wouldn't be able to be me ever again."

He looked up again, frowning. "Piccolo-san, what was it like with me being dead?"

Piccolo's lip twisted. "Empty, Gohan. Just empty."

* * *

"Good luck getting halfway across the solar system before Kakarot finds out you've left," Vegeta snorted, tossing the capsule in hand to Dende. The Guardian gave him a grateful look.

"Thank you, Vegeta." The Saiyan Prince ignored him and blasted off from the Lookout, leaving Dende standing at the edge.

"You don't intend to tell Goku you're leaving?" Mr. Popo asked in a worried tone.

"We'll tell him, of course," Dende replied. "We just don't want him interrupting the journey there. Gohan deserves a break from all this stress. Besides, I reckon he'll teleport to Namek anyway before we even get there."

Tossing the capsule up and down in the air, he meandered back into the Lookout, following the voices easily to the dining hall. He found Gohan and Piccolo at the table. "I have the ship," he said.

"Ship?" Gohan asked, clearly confused.

"To go to Namek," Piccolo explained. "Their healing powers are far beyond just what Dende can do here."

"They have a very peaceful atmosphere," Dende smiled. "I think it'll be good for you."

"Okay!" Gohan grinned. "It'll be fun to see them again after so long! When do we leave?"

"Any time. Bulma's already packed provisions for us."

"Can we leave today, then?" Gohan's eyes lit up. He'd been stuck on the Lookout for months with only a few visits away- a change of scenery sounded excellent to his ears.

"Of course. Why don't you go ready your things?" Dende patted him on the shoulder as he passed.

Once Gohan had left the room, Dende turned to Piccolo. "Well, how did that go?"

Piccolo eyed the doorway. "He's more damaged than we thought."

Dende frowned. "He's still blaming himself?"

"I _just_ got him to admit it wasn't his fault. I'm afraid he still feels guilty, however."

Dende focused on Gohan's energy, weak but at least steady as it traversed the Lookout. "Well, we can't expect him to heal in a few months. Who knows what horrors the Waste put him through?" Rubbing his head, he voiced the question he'd had on his mind. "Do you think the others will give us trouble?"

"If they do," Piccolo replied, "I'll make sure they leave Namek in pieces."


	6. Chapter 6

Gohan yawned, blinking hazily at the ceiling. A gentle hum filled every corner of the ship, illuminated only by the light streaming in from stars and planets they passed. Everything was mostly dark right now, but there was a slight glow on everything, making the ship feel relaxed.

He lay on the couch just outside the kitchen area, while Piccolo and Dende conversed in the control room. It had only been two days since they'd left, but he already felt ten times less anxious. He wanted to reconnect with his friends and parents, not to mention Goten, but the stress of actually having to initiate that process was (temporarily, at least) alleviated.

It was easy to be around Piccolo and Dende. They'd helped him recover from the beginning- nursed him back from the edge of death, held his hands as they helped him learn to walk again, heck, Dende had even helped him get dressed in the mornings. There was nothing awkward about being around them. They were practically his family. No- he could say with certainty now that they _were_ part of his family.

He'd been operating under the assumption that, once he was fully recovered, he'd go back to the Son household and they'd all live together once more, so ChiChi and Goku would be happy again. He hadn't committed to it- not set any date or thought about it too much; he'd actually been trying to avoid the notion because it made him uneasy. Now, he wasn't sure if he wanted to move back.

Living on the Lookout was…easy. Gohan was slightly ashamed to say it, but being with Piccolo and Dende was just so much _easier_. The Waste wasn't something one could just bounce back from- even after months, he was still so _tired_ , mentally and physically. Using Piccolo as a couch while he meditated to nap on or laying his head in Dende's lap was sometimes the only thing that could get him to sleep at all. If he moved back to the Son household, they would be halfway around the world from him.

His stomach flipped nervously at the thought. Even at top speed, it would take Piccolo ten minutes to get to his house- what if he woke up from a nightmare and had a panic attack? What if he flipped out when someone said something that even vaguely reminded him of the waste, or asked him questions about it? What if they just didn't understand why he took ten minutes to get up in the morning, ate barely half a plate of food, or had to rub arnica oil into his joints to alleviate the pain? He didn't even have a way to call him to his house. The Lookout didn't have a phone.

What if he got hurt and Dende wasn't there to heal him? What if he came down with a migraine bad enough to send him hurtling back into memories of pitch blank ink? What if Goku wanted him to try and start _sparring_ again?

"Gohan," Dende murmured above him, one hand brushing through his bangs, snapping Gohan out of his haze. "Calm down."

Gohan gave him an apologetic look, leaning up so his friend could sit down and leaning on his leg. "Sorry, Dende."

"Don't apologize. I could hear your jumbled thoughts from the other room," he replied, making Gohan blush slightly. "Gohan, it's all right. You don't have to be ashamed. I'm not keen on you leaving the Lookout, either." He enfolded one of Gohan's hands in his, brushing his thumb across one of the knuckles with a pensive look. "Not just because you're hurt, either," he admitted.

"Whaddaya mean, Dende?" Gohan asked, blinking at him.

Dende's cheeks turned slightly purple. "After you being gone so long, I like you being around all the time," he said. "Ever since you became my friend on Namek, I've enjoyed any time I spent with you, Gohan. I missed you very much when New Namek came into existence. That, however, paled in comparison to how much I missed you while you were gone. I really don't want to lose you again, even if it's just you living somewhere else."

"You'd be okay with me staying for…ever?" Gohan asked. He nodded.

"We've said it before. You're welcome for as long as you want. To be honest, Piccolo and I would rather you stay with us than go back to…well, everyone else."

Gohan wondered when it had become "Piccolo and I" and "everyone else". Dende himself didn't hate the Z-Fighters like Piccolo did, but he was also awkward around them, and tended to stand between them like a barrier, as if they were trying to steal him.

"I'd like that," Gohan said, blinking to keep his eyes open. "You know, I'm happy Goten's here, but you're the closest thing I have to a brother," he yawned, missing a brief flash of joy cross Dende's face.

"Do you mean that, Gohan?"

Gohan sniffed, letting his head loll to the side. "'Course I do," he said blearily. "Lying's bad."

The hand running through his hair only made him sleepier. "Just one more question, Gohan, before you go to sleep."

"Mhm?"

"Do you see Piccolo as a father the way you see me as a brother?"

"Mhm-hmm," Gohan replied. He giggled suddenly. "Don' tell 'im that, though," he whispered conspiratorially. "It might embarrass 'im."

Dende chuckled, a satisfied sound. "Of course, Gohan. He'll neeeever know it."

Piccolo could, of course, hear a pin drop from anywhere within the ship, but Gohan didn't need to know that.

* * *

Goku sighed, leaning on the back of his chair as he stared out the window. For once, his food sat untouched, even as Goten began to steal it and pile it into his mouth.

"Are you all right, Goku?" ChiChi asked in worry, making Goten look up at them.

"What? Oh, I'm fine, Chi," Goku replied, giving her a weak grin.

"You seem sad," Goten noted, wiping his mouth with the towel around his neck.

"I'm fine, buddy. Just a little down about your brother."

Goten was silent for a few moments. "Mommy, why doesn't Gohan want to live with us?"

ChiChi startled and looked down guiltily, chewing on her lip. "Well, things were very different before you were born. We didn't quite treat him the same way we treat you," she said.

Goten tilted his head in confusion. "What do you mean? Gohan never talks like you were mean to him or anything."

"Yeah, he wouldn't," Goku muttered, eyes on the floor. "He's too kind-hearted to say anything like that. But when he was little, all we did was either want him to train or study. He never really got to be a kid and go play like you and Trunks."

"He was such a sweet child." ChiChi sighed wistfully, placing her chin in her hands. "I would let him explore the forest sometimes, and he would come back with animals that were hurt or new pets as friends."

"Didn't he have friends like Trunks?" Goten wondered.

They both glanced at each other, trading a look of guilt. "Not that I'm aware of," Goku said. "He met a girl in the village before the Cell Games, but he…never got to talk to her again." ChiChi flinched when she saw him close his eyes and clench his teeth.

"Oh," Goten said quietly, putting his fork down. "Was he happy?"

They paused, unsure. "Sometimes, he was," ChiChi said slowly. "It was mostly when we were all here-" Goku cringed- "or when he visited Piccolo or Icarus. Sometimes, I think he thought he was happy, but he wasn't really."

"Remember that time you made me and Piccolo try and get a driver's license?" Goku chuckled, rocking his chair back and forth slightly. "He was standing at the fence. He looked like it was the best thing in the world to him."

"You and Piccolo got along?" Goten asked in awe.

"Yeah, son, we did, back then. We weren't friends like Gohan and Piccolo, but we got along," Goku said, voice nostalgic and sad.

"Why aren't you anymore?" Goten asked. "Is it because of what happened when Gohan died? He told me he died fighting Cell, but he didn't tell me what happened."

They both froze. "W-well," Goku stammered, rubbing his cheek. "That's…I, ah…"

The doorbell rang. ChiChi stood up and hurried to the door, wrenching it open with a plastic smile. "Hello, Krillin, 18."

Krillin looked up at her, a wrapped package in one arm. "Hey, ChiChi. How's it going?"

"Fine, fine," ChiChi let them in with a nervous smile.

"Oh, sorry, didn't meant to interrupt dinner," Krillin apologized, slapping Goku on the shoulder with a grin.

"It's all right, Krillin. Sit down, why don't you?" Goku grinned back.

"Don't-mind-if-I-do!" Krillin slid into a seat, while 18 hovered behind him with her arms crossed. ChiChi supposed Roshi was watching Marron. "We came to drop this by. Just a welcome back gift for Gohan. Thought it might be better if we just left it with you rather than trying to take it ourselves."

ChiChi didn't think Goku's presence would be welcome at the Lookout at all, but she took the package with a smile anyway. "Thank you, you two. We appreciate it."

"I was thinking of heading over there tomorrow anyway," Goku said, running a hand through his hair. "Figured a few days would be enough time for everyone to cool off."

"Why don't you visit, Uncle Krillin?" Goten asked, confused.

"Ah…" Krillin trailed off awkwardly. "Piccolo doesn't like many people coming around," he said.

"Hm." Goten examined his plate with a frown. "He likes Gohan being there, though. Just no one else?"

"Not really, kiddo. He'd probably be fine with you coming around, though, cuz Gohan's your big brother and all."

Goten nodded mutely.

"But Mommy and Daddy are his Mommy and Daddy, so why not them too?" he pressed.

"Goten, why don't you go play with your toys? I'll get the dishes," ChiChi said, lightly pushing him out of his seat.

"Okay, Mommy," Goten replied, dissatisfied, running up the stairs.

"Tough answers, huh?" Krillin said after a moment of silence.

"Yeah," Goku replied, sounding downtrodden. "How are we supposed to tell him?"

18 spoke up for the first time. "By not beating around the bush," she said coolly. "Tell him what you have to tell him. Explain your reasons and let him draw his own conclusions. I'll be outside," she said to Krillin, waving ChiChi off when she went to open the door for her.

"Think she's right?" ChiChi asked, wringing her hands.

"I dunno. It's really your call," Krillin said, eyeing the stairway with a sympathetic look. It pained him to see his best friend's family so broken.

Upstairs, Goten dialed Trunks' number, waiting for him to pick up. "Trunks, they won't tell me anything. Did you find out anything good?"

"Not really, but I might be onto something," Trunks replied. "I managed to get Mom to let it slip that they had been 'so happy' before the Cell Games, so something must have happened there other than just Gohan dying. Something that made Piccolo and everyone else get mad at each other. I mean, the older me got killed to, but it didn't make anyone hate each other."

"What could've happened, though?" Goten asked.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. I'll sneak in my mom's office when she's out and use her computer to find the footage online."

"I'll see if I can get my mom and dad to tell me," Goten peeked out of Gohan's room down the hall, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I don't think they will, but Uncle Krillin isn't good at keeping secrets…"

* * *

"Make sure to check to see if he's eating enough," ChiChi said, fiddling with the towel on her waist. "I don't know what kind of food they even have up there."

Goku gave her a smile, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he placed two fingers to his forehead. "All right ChiChi. See you later."

A moment later, ChiChi frowned.

"Goku. You're still here."

Goku's face had frozen, slowly falling into a horrified look. "Their energies. I can't sense them anywhere," he said, becoming frantic. "They're not anywhere on the planet!"

"What?!" ChiChi gasped. "Look harder!"

"I'm trying!" Goku cursed under his breath and spoke aloud. "King Kai, King Kai can you hear me?"

"What is it?" King Kai's voice echoed in their minds. "I was about to eat breakfast!"

"King Kai, please, it's an emergency. Contact Dende for me."

"Grr, fine." King Kai grumbled, falling silent. "I don't understand. He's blocking me, for some reason."

"Why would he do that?" ChiChi demanded, hands on her neck as she paced the room. "Where've they gone?!"

"What's going on?" King Kai asked, puzzled.

"Piccolo, Dende and Gohan have disappeared from the planet," Goku informed him. "I'm going to go talk to Mr. Popo. ChiChi, just stay calm. I'll get him back, I promise."

ChiChi nodded mutely as he disappeared, covering her eyes with her hands. "Not again."

* * *

Mr. Popo felt a little lonely on the Lookout all by himself, but enjoyed the serenity. Humming lightly, he watered the flowers out front, relaxed. By now, Piccolo and Dende would be halfway to Namek, and there wasn't a thing to worry about-

"Mr. Popo!" He jumped and dropped his watering can, stumbling. Goku grabbed his shoulder urgently. "Where'd they go?!"

"Where'd who go?" Popo asked, trying to make himself sound oblivious.

"Piccolo, Dende and Gohan!" Goku snapped, more from stress than anger at Popo. "Their energies are gone and Dende's blocking King Kai. Where've they gone?"

"Oh, they took a trip," Popo replied, smiling with his eyes closed.

"To _where_?" Goku pressed.

Popo tapped his chin with one finger. "You know, I'm not completely sure. I think I heard Dende talking about a planet renowned for its healers. Perhaps they went there to try and accelerate Gohan's recovery?"

Goku's face darkened. "Without telling _anyone_?"

"I suppose they must have," Popo smiled again. "Now that I think about it, Dende did say goodbye the other day as if they were going somewhere. I must have missed them!" he went back to humming and picked up his watering can while Goku twitched. He felt bad for lying, but Gohan's recovery and comfort was most important.

"Do you remember the name of the planet?" Goku asked, following him as he moved down the flower beds.

"Hmm." Popo made a show of thinking about it before smiling again. "Nope! Sorry."

"Dammit," Goku cursed. "Thanks, Mr. Popo. Sorry for interrupting you." He put two fingers to his forehead and disappeared.

Mr. Popo sweatdropped. It was a good thing his face wasn't as expressive as a human being's, or else even Goku might have noticed how nervous he was.

* * *

Bulma jumped when Goku appeared in her kitchen, still in the oversized pair of bunny slippers Trunks had gotten her for Christmas and a robe. "Goku! WHY."

"Sorry, Bulma," Goku said sheepishly. "Gohan's missing. He, Piccolo and Dende left a few days ago for a planet to heal Gohan. Do you know anything about it?"

Bulma's brain stalled. She hadn't had her coffee yet. "Ummmmmmmm."

"Bulma?"

"Nope! Nothing!"

"Bulma, did you give them a ship?"

"What?! No!"

"Bulma!"

"I don't know anything!" Bulma said firmly, turning to leave. He appeared in front of her, making her curse.

"Come on. Please just tell me. I need to know."

"Look, wherever they went, it's obviously for relaxation and restoration. Maybe it's best if we just leave them be!"

"You know what space is like, Bulma! There's danger everywhere! Who knows who's lurking around? Frieza's army? People like Bojack?"

Ah, Bojack. The alien who'd made the mistake of taunting Goku while he was in mourning and taking a cheap shot and stab in the dark about him having a son. Goku had gone Super Saiyan 2 and left a crater where he'd been standing.

"Seriously, Goku. Just leave it be."

Goku's face grew taut, and Bulma felt it tug at her heart strings. She'd been friends with Goku for a long time, and didn't like seeing him in pain- but she didn't like seeing Gohan in pain, either.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me," Goku said stubbornly.

"Okay, seriously? Goku, I'm in my pajamas. Leave."

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Neither one of them moved.

Bulma scowled. She was about to start cussing up a storm if he wasn't out of her kitchen in five seconds. "I'm going to count down, and when I reach one you better be gone so I can have my damn coffee. Five. Four." They glared at each other, and Bulma was reminded of all the times she'd gotten frustrated with him as kids and he'd been oblivious. She felt a little childish, but went on anyway. "Three. TWO. GOKU."

"I _believe_ the woman told you to leave, Kakarot," Vegeta growled sourly from the doorway, stalking into the room like a tiger zeroed in on a zebra in its path. For once, Bulma was glad he'd popped up to harass Goku.

"Vegeta," Goku greeted, frowning. "Do _you_ know anything about where Piccolo and Gohan went?"

"You're in my house, Kakarot, I hardly think you're the one who gets to ask questions. Now, _I'm_ going to count down from five, and if you don't leave, trust me, I'll do much worse than Bulma."

"Vegeta, come on-"

"Five."

"I need to-"

"Four."

"Please-"

"You're testing my patience, three."

 _"Vegeta, do you know anything?_ " Goku snapped, scowling.

Vegeta gave him a haughty look. "I don't know and don't care where they went, clown. Yes, I gave them a ship. Angry?" he asked with a smirk.

Goku rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The question was obviously directed toward Bulma. "That boy needs space right now, Goku. Just give it to him. They'll be fine. Now get out of here before he hits one," she said, pointing her thumb at Vegeta, who just scowled.

Goku nodded. "Sorry." He disappeared from the house, discouraged.

* * *

Goku scrubbed his hands through his hair, blowing air out through his nose in frustration. "I can't find them," he said.

ChiChi walked over and started to rub his shoulders. "I'm sure they'll be back soon. The only thing we can do now is hope they're safe."

"I hate not being able to do anything," Goku said bitterly. "It just reminds me of when I _could_ do something and chose not to."

"Goku, you can't keep torturing yourself with that forever," ChiChi murmured, setting her chin atop his head.

"The way I see it, if Piccolo hadn't have found Gohan, he would have been literally tortured for the rest of time. Gohan may have forgiven me, but I won't."

"We've got him back now," ChiChi said.

Goku frowned, examining his hands. "No. No, we don't."

* * *

Gohan didn't know what about, but Piccolo and Dende kept speaking in low tones on the opposite side of the ship of wherever he was standing. Not for the first time, he wished he had Namekian hearing.

Dende glanced at him, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. Gohan had been looking anywhere but him whenever he did so, but he just stared back and waved now, making his friend sweatdrop and wave back.

Piccolo had been oddly quiet, even for him, spending whatever time he wasn't sitting with Gohan meditating. Gohan came to one conclusion: they had a secret.

Why didn't _he_ get to know the secret? With a pout, Gohan hobbled around the kitchen, looking for something to do to pass the time while his friends were being weird. He ended up fiddling with a loose wire from the fridge.

After less than a week, he watched New Namek come into view through the ship's windows. Dende maneuvered them down through the atmosphere, coming to a smooth landing on a serene plain. Gohan could see Namekian huts in the distance.

Moori was waiting for them. Gohan spotted him out the window and stood near the door, bouncing up and down as best he could from excitement. Dende took his arm with a smile, helping him down the ramp while Piccolo loomed behind.

"It's nice to see you again, Dende, Gohan, Piccolo," Elder Moori said, "how've you been?"

"Fine, all things considering," Dende replied, bowing to him. Piccolo just nodded.

"We have accommodations for you in the village," Moori explained walking alongside them toward the sprinklings of huts. Gohan could see several Namekians, some adults and some children, going about their work sneaking glances at them. "You're welcome here as long as is necessary."

"Thank you, Elder Moori," Gohan said respectfully, wishing he could bow. Unfortunately, if he did, he didn't think he'd be able to right himself.

"Think nothing of it, child," Moori said warmly, stopping in front of a large hut. Gohan blinked up at it.

"Isn't this yours?" he asked in confusion.

"Yes. It is my sincere pleasure to lend it to you."

"Oh, I didn't mean to put you out," Gohan said, eyes wide. "We would really be fine with anything-"

Moori appeared pleased with something, what Gohan didn't know. "Again, think nothing of it. What is ours is yours, Gohan," he said, patting the boy on the shoulder.

"Well, erm, thank you very much then," Gohan bowed his head, still feeling like people were watching him. Flushing slightly, he looked up and glanced around, making people look away quickly. Sweatdropping, he stepped inside the hut and found one of the cushions situated around the table in the middle, dropping onto it with a sigh of relief. At least Piccolo could come inside without having to remove his cloak.

Dende sat down behind him, placing glowing hands on his upper back. "Are you feeling all right, Gohan?"

"Uh, yes, just a little sore from not moving much for a few days," Gohan replied, wincing. The tension left his shoulders, and the corner of his mouth lifted. "Thanks, Dende. Say…did it seem like people were staring a little bit?" he asked, not seeing them both sweatdrop and grow a little nervous behind him.

"Of course not," Dende laughed. "If they were, they were probably just curious, that's all."

Gohan blinked and nodded. "Right. Probably."

"You should get some rest. Tomorrow we'll have two other healers come in and help me, and if you're up to it, we can practice your skills some more," Dende said, tipping Gohan back and letting his head rest in his lap.

Gohan had been feeling oddly tired for at least two days. "Yeah, I'll get some sleep," he yawned, covering his mouth. He pulled the cloak he wore that was identical to Dende's closer around him, curling up on the floor. There was a mat covering it, making it strangely comfortable.

Before he fell asleep, he could have _sworn_ he heard Dende ask Piccolo if he thought he would agree to something. The thought was quickly forgotten as he fell into a land of dreams- pleasant, for once.


	7. Chapter 7

Gohan woke up to Dende gently shaking his shoulder, muttering something about going to the 'healing hut', whatever that was.

Still half-asleep, he let Dende help him up and followed him outside, holding onto his sleeve. He didn't know how long it had been, seeing as Namek didn't have a day-night cycle. However, not many Namekians were milling around, leading him to believe it had been a few hours at least.

Dende led him past a small field cultivating beautiful, gigantic blue flowers to a rectangular hut, slipping in through the curtains over the doorway. He sat Gohan down on a cushioned table, patting him on the shoulder. "This is Nom and Murek," he said, and Gohan blinked, attempting to stand and greet the two Namekians who had just entered the hut. Even half-comatose, he still had his manners.

"There's no need, anku," the one on the left stepped forward quickly and laid a hand on his shoulder. "It is an honor to meet you. You helped save our race many years ago."

Gohan nodded, blushing slightly. "Um, it's nice to meet you, too. Are you…healers like Dende…?"

"We are the same class as Dende, yes," the one on the right- Murek, if Gohan had interpreted Dende's gesture correctly- replied. Gohan nodded again, rubbing one of his eyes and trying to dispel the haze of sleep.

"Why don't you lie down now, Gohan?" Dende asked, pressing gently on his shoulder. Blearily, Gohan glanced at him before obeying, situating himself on the bed and laying his staff on the floor.

Nom pulled the curtains over the door shut, making the room dark. Dende knelt beside him, one hand on his arm in assurance, and nodded at his companions.

They each raised their hands and let their energy flow over him. It was warm, and oddly comforting- more so than feeling the Z-Fighters' ki had ever been. It wasn't that he didn't find comfort in feeling his friends' energy, but just the feeling had never _literally_ given his mind comfort and calmed him like falling asleep would. He found his eyes closing.

Gohan wrenched when pain assaulted his lower back and gritted his teeth, determined not to move and make their job harder. Another jolt made him choke out a breath and Dende run a hand through his hair, whispering soothing words.

"I know it hurts, but just stand it for a few minutes," his friend whispered. Gohan nodded, making sure his tongue wasn't anywhere near his teeth- he didn't want to bite through it.

Through a haze, he heard the Namekians speaking in low tones. "We have not healed many humans," Nom whispered to Dende, "but we have healed many travelers with similar physical structures. His bone structure is all wrong. It is twisted and deformed; his organs are struggling- is this why he's in so much pain just by walking around?"

Well. He thought he'd hid the pain well enough. Evidently not. Maybe being a healer race made it easier to spot when someone was hurting.

"I've been trying to correct it over time," Dende muttered back. "It was so much worse when he first came back. We _had_ to come to Namek soon, or else it would just start getting worse. I couldn't deal with it on my own."

"Poor child," Murek murmured. "This Waste- the Destroyer of Souls, as we know it- how did he come to fall into it?"

"That's…a story for a later time," Dende whispered, moving soothing hands to Gohan's shoulders as he shuddered continuously. "All right, that's enough for today," he said, louder. The two moved back gradually, letting their energy fade, and Gohan opened his eyes with a pained breath, feeling like he'd gotten the wind knocked out of him. His pain tolerance was shot.

"Come along, Gohan," Dende whispered, taking his hands and helping him sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. "You should walk around a little bit before getting some rest."

Gohan tried to nod, but he felt like he'd been stuck underwater for weeks and had only just come up, so he just mumbled an affirmative response and followed Dende blindly. Nom handed him his staff, and Gohan managed to mutter out a thank you as Dende led him out the door.

They walked around the village, which had grown from only eleven residents to twenty-five. "Have the Namekians been reproducing?" Gohan asked, sitting on a rock that functioned as a bench and watching several children who were smaller than Dende was when he had first met him play.

Dende had walked off to talk to Moori about something, but the warrior type who was hanging around him (was he being _guarded_?), a Namek as tall as Piccolo but not as thick, answered his question. "Yes, Grand Elder Moori has seen fit to start repopulating our race," Argos said. He turned his gaze to the children playing. "The anku are very precious to us."

"Anku?" Gohan asked in confusion, recognizing the word. "Do you use that for children?"

"Yes, I believe it translates to 'young one' in the universal language."

Gohan nodded, looking down when something tugged on his robes. He looked down and blinked owlishly, feeling a sense of déjà vu. It hadn't been too long ago for him that Dende was that short.

"You don't have antennae," the Namekian child in front of him pointed at his forehead. Gohan wondered why him having hair or white skin instead of green wasn't the first thing he pointed out.

"Cina, do not bother our guest," Argos started, but Gohan interrupted him with a smile.

"It's okay, it's fine," he chuckled, turning back to Cina. "That's because I'm not a Namekian."

"But…you feel like one," Cina tilted his head, frowning in confusion. "What are you, then?"

"Well, I'm half human and half Saiyan," Gohan replied, hesitancy in his voice. He felt detached from his own heritage- spending so much time in the Waste as a body-less entity made him feel disillusioned, and then when he had been aware of his own body, he didn't know what human, Saiyan, or Namekian meant. Truthfully, he didn't feel like a human or a Saiyan anymore. He just felt like a person.

"Huh," Cina said, with the expression of one who had just learned something new about someone but was going to ignore it in lieu of what they thought _should_ be correct. "Well, I don't know what that means, so you can just be one of us!" he said, with the innocence and naivety only a child could muster.

Gohan chuckled, completely missing Argos' intrigued expression. Cina grabbed his hand, pulling him off the rock and toward the other children, who paused in their play to stare at him.

"This is-" Cina paused, glancing up at him.

"Gohan," Gohan whispered, even though he knew full well they could all hear him.

"Gohan," Cina said, as if he had known all along. "He's going to play with us, too."

"Hello, Gohan!" the children chorused, oddly polite. It was an odd contrast- many human children were plain bratty. Whenever they had gone into the city, Gohan counted at least five throwing fits.

"Nice to meet you all," he leaned down with a smile, even though it made his whole back ache. "Why don't you tell me your names?"

When the Namekians had been staying on Earth, the rest of the Z-Gang had had the hardest time telling them apart. The only one they could recognize from a distance was Piccolo, but that wasn't worth much since he didn't spend much time with his race when they were on Earth. Up close, they had an easier time of it, but often called Namekians by the wrong name and ended up giving them a sheepish apology.

Gohan had no such problem. To him, it was blatantly obvious which child was which; Cina had a narrower nose than Mekon, who had slightly longer antennae than Ados, who was a quarter of an inch taller than his brother Ates. Kara was slightly wider than Piruka, and Piruka had a different facial bone structure altogether.

He followed them to a field of the flowers that grew on Namek, Argos following quietly in their shadow. He ended up sitting cross-legged on the ground, braiding flower crowns for them all to wear. They had never thought to do it before- evidently it was an Earth thing- and were absorbed as he showed them how to do it.

The flowers were blue, just like the grass. Gohan twined them around each other and set the finished crown on top of Cina's head, making him blink in stunned silence as his antennae twitched minutely.

"It's beautiful," Ados said in awe, poking at his own. Gohan couldn't help but laugh.

He had slipped into older brother mode easily- children were so easy to be around. He couldn't understand why anyone wouldn't like them. They didn't judge anyone, too innocent and kind-hearted, not yet downtrodden by the universe's cruelness. Gohan watched everyone but Cina get up and chase each other around the field, smiling widely.

"Thank you, Gohan," Cina said, looking up at him with a weird expression. "Can you stay here forever?"

"I'm afraid not, Cina," Gohan replied apologetically, patting him on the shoulder. "Dende has to go back to Earth because he's its guardian, and that's where I live, too. I don't want to overstay my welcome, anyway. But I can definitely visit a lot."

"Oh, but you'd be welcome here anytime!" Cina exclaimed, looking heartbroken.

"I know, but the way I grew up, I learned I shouldn't be a burden on anyone any longer than absolutely necessary. Do you understand?"

Cina looked down at the ground and frowned. "No," he admitted. "We always just help each other when we need it. I don't understand why you see yourself as a burden."

"Well," Gohan began, trying to explain. "I can't exactly do anything to help out with the way I am."

"But that's not your fault!" Cina said, looking completely befuddled. "Here we just take care of people who need it! If they can't work or fight or heal, it doesn't mean they're worthless!"

Gohan sweatdropped, noticing the other children staring at them. "Well," he said, clearing his throat nervously. "I know that, but on Earth, things are different. People don't help each other, or care about each other quite often. Of course there are kind people there, but even when it's your friends and family, you're taught not to burden them and to deal with your problems by yourself first before going to get help." That left out threats to the planet, which usually required the whole gang.

"We deal with things _together_ ," Cina emphasized, leaning closer and just getting more intense the more Gohan tried to settle him down. A frown overtook the young Namek's face. "We do not attempt to be completely by ourselves very often. Here, our fathers take care of us and protect us until we come of age, and we can help take care of and protect the other young ones and the ones who cannot protect and provide for themselves. Isn't it the same on your 'Earth'?"

"Yes, but…" Gohan trailed off. Images flashed through his mind, and a phantom pain spread up his spine. "Yes, but…"

"But?" Cina pressed.

"Yes, fathers take care of their children on Earth," Gohan finished, looking away and to the ground. How could he say anything against Goku now? That would just be metaphorically kicking him when he was down.

Cina seemed to be confused by something. "You're in pain," he said, and Gohan jumped, wondering how he knew. "In your head?"

Gohan's mouth opened and closed. He'd forgotten that Namekians were telepathic by nature- had he been broadcasting like Dende described he often did?

"Did your father not take care of you?" Cina guessed accurately.

Gohan's jaw trembled. The world shrunk down, and he forgot the other children and Argos were there; all he could see was a tiny little Namekian all too perceptive who had guessed what he'd been trying to ignore for several months. "I…he…he just…he made a mistake," Gohan stammered, unable to lie to Cina for reasons unknown to him.

"I don't understand," Cina repeated. "What did Piccolo do?"

Dead silence. Gohan stared, startled, before he scrambled to get his brain in gear. "I- what? Erm. I, uh. He. We. Not. That's- we're not- he's not- he's not my biological father," he stumbled over his words.

"He didn't hatch you?" Cina asked, eye ridges raising.

"Y-yes, exactly."

"Oh, so he simply imprinted on you and someone else hatched you."

"Im…printed? What is that?" Gohan asked,

"Form a telepathic bond," Cina said, childishly annoyed. "Don't you know _anything_?"

"No," Gohan choked out. "Not really."

Cina huffed. "Fine, I'll explain, then. When an egg hatches, the father Namekian imprints on it so he'll know when it's in danger, in pain, lost, or upset. However, when the original hatcher can't imprint, for example if he dies, then another Namekian imprints and takes the child as his own. Understand?" Gohan nodded. "The bond dulls in strength as the hatchling grows, and is at its zenith shortly after the egg hatches. When the hatchling grows from adolescence to adulthood, they become equals."

"Okay," Gohan began uncertainly, "so you think Piccolo imprinted on me?"

"It's obvious," Cina said, as if he were dumb. "He always knows when you're in pain and he takes care of you. Why wouldn't he have?"

Gohan struggled to come up with a coherent answer, before Cina interrupted him. "Wait, if you weren't talking about Piccolo, were you talking about your 'biological' parent?"

"Yes," Gohan sighed heavily, relieved for a topic change.

"What did _he_ do?" Cina asked, sounding suspicious.

"I…he made…a mistake," Gohan said, briefly forgetting the other Namekians, and probably several if not all of the ones in the village just a short distance away, could hear him. "We had to fight someone who was very strong and was threatening our planet. You know Frieza from the adults' stories, right?" The child nodded. "He was even more powerful than him. My father started to fight him, but he stopped and asked me to. He said that I had the power to, but I- I just couldn't bring it out," he said, guilty.

Cina's eyes went wide. "You were a warrior?" he asked. "But you're too- too gentle and peaceful to be a warrior. I thought you were a healer."

"Um, well, I was a fighter, but I can heal too. Just not very well. Humans and Saiyans aren't really bound to only being a warrior or healer. Anyway, my father was convinced I could defeat Cell, the strong enemy, but I wasn't able to. That's how I got hurt this badly. I stumbled into something called the Waste. It did this to me," Gohan said, gesturing to himself.

Cina tilted his head. "How long did he let you try before he realized you could not defeat this Cell and stepped in to help you?"

Gohan shifted awkwardly. "Well, I'm not sure how long our fight lasted, but Cell started to, um…torture me..and he…didn't…realize?" Cina stared at him. "That's…how I fell into the Waste. I died."

"You mean," Cina said, voice small. "He just…stood there and watched?"

"Y-yes," Gohan hadn't realized he was shaking badly until he started to stutter again. "He was s-so convinced I was the only one who could beat Cell, and I just…let him down."

Cina's face slowly transformed into one of horror, while the other children watched apprehensively. "But you- you think _you_ let _him_ down? He just stood there and let you die!" he said, obviously distressed.

"Cina, it's okay," Gohan said, trying to placate him. "I'm fine _now_ -"

"But you hurt all the time," Cina stood up with an upset look. "How did you get out? Did your father get you out?"

"He, uh. Stopped looking for me."

Cina's face shifted into something even uglier. Gohan felt like he'd just trampled over the calm atmosphere with lead boots. "Why?!"

"He needed closure," Gohan tried to explain, but Cina wasn't having any of it.

"So who _did_ bring you back?"

"…Piccolo and Dende…"

Cina's eyes were triumphant. "See?" he said, poking Gohan's forehead where antennae would normally be. Gohan wondered if that was something Namekian children did to each other. " _They_ didn't give up because _they're_ the ones who imprinted on you."

"I thought that was a parent-kid thing," Gohan sweatdropped, leaning back on his hands.

"Siblings do it too," was all the explanation Cina offered, poking him again. He paused, frowning. "But it doesn't feel like your bond is complete," he said, looking disturbed. "That's not supposed to happen."

Gohan sweatdropped for a second time. "Well," he paused to lick his lips. "It's probably because we're different species. Isn't it supposed to only happen between Nameks?"

"Nameks have imprinted on alien orphans before," Cina said defensively. "The bond stays stronger longer because they have longer adolescence periods, but that is the only difference other than physical species, and hardly anything to be embarrassed about. Some adults still have very strong bonds, it's just different."

"Oh," Gohan said dumbly.

"So," Cina looked slightly excited. "You're going to be family now, right?"

"I- I- I dunno, Cina."

"If they _asked_ you to," Cina said slowly, "would you say yes?"

Gohan looked around. Argos was staring so intensely at a rock at his feet that he looked ready to have an aneurysm, ears seeming to stick out a little more than usual. The other children were fiddling with flowers in their hands, walking around jerkily. He frowned. How weird.

Again forgetting about Namekian hearing due to his exhaustion, Gohan turned back to Cina, lowering his voice. "Okay, fine, just…don't _tell_ anyone, okay?" Unbeknownst to him, every Namek within earshot waited with baited breath for his answer; it was only the start of his comical troubles with Namekian ears for years to come.

"I won't tell…anyone," Cina said, in an oddly slow fashion. (Years later, Gohan would look back on their discussion, twitch, and mutter "That little liar.") "Now, if they asked you, would- you- say- _yes_?"

"…yeah, I would."

* * *

"Come on, Goten!" Trunks whispered, darting down the hall ahead of his friend.

"Wait up, Trunks!" Goten called, making Trunks slide to a stop and facepalm.

"Sh!" he hissed. "This is supposed to be a stealth mission!"

"Sorry," Goten whispered sheepishly, miming zipping his lips. Rolling his eyes, Trunks peered down the hall before walking out toward Bulma's office. Goten followed.

They slipped inside, pushing the door shut and running to the desk. They both stood in the chair to reach the computer, leaning on the edge while Trunks clicked away and opened Bulma's internet browser.

He typed _Cell Games footage_ into the search bar.

The page instantly filled up with links, sporting various versions. Trunks clicked on one that was titled _CELL GAMES – enhanced – full sound_.

Trunks turned the volume down, hearing someone walk by outside. They both leaned forward in anticipation as the video began to play.

The reporter was one of the idiots who had once thought Hercule Satan was the strongest in the world. That notion had been quickly destroyed years ago. They spoke onscreen for a minute, and Trunks fast-forwarded until he got to the fighting.

Hercule started spouting off about wires and light tricks as they watched Goku fight Cell. They had both seen him go toe to toe with Vegeta in their Super Saiyan 2 forms, so they weren't impressed.

And then he stopped.

"Gohan," Goku called on screen.

Goten frowned. "Gohan said he died fighting Cell," he whispered. "I thought they all fought him at once."

"Evidently not," Trunks said, eyebrows in his hairline as they watched Gohan power up and start to fight the monstrosity that had threatened the world. "Look at that, Goku and Piccolo are standing beside each other. This must be where they started fighting." Goten nodded in agreement.

"He's pretty good," Goten said, a bit of pride in his voice. "He's a lot more powerful there than we are, and he's only a few years older than us."

They watched as the fight proceeded, until Gohan tried to talk Cell down. "That's kinda stupid to do, but I don't blame him," Trunks frowned. "Gohan doesn't like fighting. I wonder why they aren't all just attacking him at once. Surely if your dad, my dad and Gohan all fought him at the same time they'd win. Not to mention the older me. That's, like, four Super Saiyans against one android."

" _I guess I'll just have to force it out of you, then!_ " Cell yelled. Both their eyes widened when he began shooting pink beams- they recognized them from Krillin's stories about Frieza.

Gohan dodged. In an instant, Cell had him trapped in a bear hug, and then he started to crush him.

Goten and Trunks reeled back, horror spreading across their faces as Gohan screamed and screamed and _screamed_. " _Oh, Cell is putting that boy through the ringer! Won't somebody stop him?_ "

The camera showed Goku and Piccolo, just barely picking up snippets of their concentration.

 _"Goku, this is madness! Cell is - kill him!"_

 _"No, he won't, Piccolo! Gohan has - himself. - has the power."_

 _"That doesn't mean he can - ! Gohan may be the strong – he's still a child - !"_

Piccolo rushed forward, but Goku grabbed him by the shoulder, looking frustrated. The other Z-Fighters were looking visibly distressed and nervous. The next bit of dialogue was crystal clear.

 _"I'm stopping this fight!"_

 _"No, you aren't!"_

Gohan's screaming abruptly became oddly high-pitched, and then, even the camera picked up the audible _snap_.

Trunks and Goten were shaking, staring in mute terror as the camera slowly wheeled back to Cell and Gohan. With a disappointed look, Cell let Gohan fall to the ground. He was bent at an odd angle, and the look on his face would haunt the two for years to come.

And then Cell pointed two fingers at the boy's chest.

Blood flew _everywhere_. Bits of bone and chunks of internal organs littered the ground around him as the boy lay strewn open like a casket.

Not a millisecond later, the older version of Trunks and Piccolo screamed in unison- long, wordless sounds, from deep in their throats; and they threw themselves at Cell with blind, adrenaline-fueled rage, while the rest stood stock still in complete shock.

Vegeta was the first to break out of his stupor, throwing himself into the fight with a flare of his aura. Goku was still staring, wide-eyed, as the three pummeled Cell together, electricity starting to crackle to life in Mirai's vicinity.

The one shot he got in was spearing the older version of Trunks through the chest with a blast of energy, making everyone freeze once again. The two children watching felt even more horrified, while Trunks reached up with a shaky hand to feel his chest.

When Mirai's body hit the ground, Vegeta screamed, guttural and wild. The power surge he let loose made the camera go fuzzy; when the image finally returned to normal, Piccolo was looking around frantically on the ground and Goku and Vegeta were fighting Cell together- or at least, close together. Vegeta was ignoring any attempt made by Goku to help and work together.

A bright flash of light signaled Cell's demise, but it was uneventful and felt dull. The cameraman shakily went in closer, the image losing different colors and a grey line spreading across part of it.

" _Do you see what you've done?_ " Piccolo roared, hands around Goku's throat as everyone but Vegeta tried to get him off. His face was set in an angry snarl, his eyes wild and uncontrolled, but his aura radiated pain even through a camera lens nine years into the future.

And then, Trunks and Goten understood.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** A thank you to the wonderful CMCMC for giving me great ideas. ;P

* * *

"Gohan."

Gohan looked up from his task- which involved carefully removing large blue flowers from pots weaved from thick grass and setting them on a table for the Namekians to take out to the field- and craned his neck all the way back to look up at Piccolo, one of the tallest Nameks there, blocking out the sun as he stood beside him. "Yes?"

Piccolo inclined his head toward the edge of the village. "Dende and I need to speak with you."

"Okay," Gohan replied cheerfully, unfazed as he set the pot in his hands down and used his staff to get up. Piccolo set a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head as he took half a step toward the indicated direction.

"We're flying."

Gohan gave him a confused look, adjusting his staff so it didn't hit his mentor in the face when he gathered him in his arms and took off into the air. Dende was waiting on the edge of a cliff, but rose into the air when he saw them.

They flew a good distance from the village before they touched down, Dende leading him over to a small boulder to sit down. Piccolo sat on his other side, making him start to feel a little nervous. Was this some sort of intervention or something?

"We wanted to talk to you about something where no one could hear us," Dende began. "The other day, we sort of…overheard you speaking with Cina about something…"

A slow sweatdrop ran down Gohan's forehead. "Oh…you did."

"Yes," Dende said, just as awkwardly. "He told you how Nameks bond with their children and siblings, yes?"

Gohan nodded uncertainly. "And that you've…formed a partial bond with the two of us?"

"Yeah," Gohan replied. "That isn't…bad or anything is it?"

"The exact opposite, kid," said Piccolo, setting one hand on top of his head.

"We've known about it ever since you regained the ability to remember who you are," Dende said. "I had suspected before that, but it was only then I knew for sure. I wanted to elaborate on what it means, exactly.

"The bond itself is unique to each parent-child and sibling pair. Generally, they are formed the same way, through a telepathic connection made through an emotional bond. This allows each member to communicate mentally with the others and to feel, to a certain extent, what the others are feeling. Normally, it's cemented at first meeting between a parent and child, and although sibling bonds are almost never as intense, they form after a few hours spent together. Partial bonds only ever develop between Namekians and those outside our race because Namekian children automatically accept the initiation of it. Children of other races do not because it sometimes takes more effort for the bond to be established, like when you first met Piccolo, and there is some translation error, so to say, with species who are not telepathic by nature."

"That's why you know what I'm thinking a lot, isn't it?" Gohan queried, thinking of the time last month when Dende had answered his unspoken question of just how many times Mr. Popo watered his flowers during the day.

"It's also how you already know what we're going to ask, so we might as well just say it, Dende," said Piccolo, one antennae twitching.

"Will you allow us to complete the bond? When it is complete, we will be bonded as family," Dende said, eyes lighting up.

A small grin encompassed Gohan's face. "Really?" Dende nodded, lips twitching with a smile. "Let's do it, then!"

Dende's eyes darted up to Piccolo, and he seemed amused. "Piccolo will have to do it first, because he's the parent here," he said, a teasing note in his voice. They both looked up at him, expectant. "But, he's also never done this before. The last time was instinctual."

Piccolo's eyebrow twitched at Dende's teasing look. He placed two fingers on Gohan's forehead, frowning as he concentrated.

Dende covered a chuckle at the serious look on his face. It was cute, in his opinion.

After a minute, Gohan blinked, wondering if it was going to feel weird. On cue, he felt something _shift_ , and he became faintly aware of a presence- it wasn't unlike sensing an energy signature. Dende placed his hand on his back, and the shift was instantaneous this time.

 _Can you hear me, Gohan?_

"Yeah," Gohan said, before frowning. _Yeah?_

 _Perfect! You're a natural,_ Dende beamed while Piccolo's hand brushed through his hair. He wasn't saying anything, but the closest word Gohan could find to describe his presence was satisfied.

Under the surface, their presence had an undertone of- _something_. It was like touching a tarp over the ocean and feeling the waves beneath it. For a moment, they both zoned out, and he peered at them, wondering. They weren't actually looking directly at him, but they both were practically curled up around him mentally- like housecats, although he suspected it was partially unintentional. They looked, dare say, shaken.

Sometimes he forgot that they'd gone eight years after seeing someone tear him apart.

* * *

Goten continued to stare at the screen after the video had ended, ashen-faced and open-mouthed. Even his hair seemed to droop. The next video in the playlist started to play, but he couldn't move.

"H-he…he just…" Trunks stammered. His whole body was shaking, and his usual ornery attitude had disappeared.

 _Hercule Satan World Champ Comments on Cell Games_ , the next title read.

A reporter jogged alongside Hercule as he walked out the door from some event, cameras flashing everywhere. _"Mr. Satan, do you have any comments on the events of the Cell Games and the mysterious fighters who showed up?_ "

" _Ha! Light tricks and wires, I tell ya. That dirty Cell just wanted to make himself look real powerful. That whole desert was rigged with equipment, the camera just couldn't pick it up! They were all fakes, I tell ya."_

 _"And what about the boy who was tragically killed? Was he a fake as well?"_

Hercule's face softened. _"That kid was just misguided. He probably thought he was tryin' to save the world. Even if Cell was a fake, he was four times the kid's size. That boy's daddy should be ashamed of himself. I can't fathom why anyone thought it was a good idea to send a little kid to fight that murderer."_

 _"Is it true you're going to honor him at the banquet this year?"_

 _"You bet it is! That kid's a hero, I'd invite him personally if he were still…" Hercule paused, looking genuinely sad._

 _"Daddy, can we leave now?" A little girl asked behind him._

 _"Sure, sweet pea! Sorry, that's all the comments I have!"_

 _"Wait, Mr. Satan!_ "

"I can't believe my daddy did that!" Goten fell back into the chair and started to cry, sniffling. Trunks just stared wide-eyed at the computer, managing to pull himself together enough to stop the video.

"I-it's…okay, Goten, he's…" Trunks stammered, not knowing what to say.

The door swished open. In came Bulma, whistling and carrying a glass full of soda. She froze when she saw them. "Guys? What're you- Goten, what's wrong?"

"I-I'm sorry, Mom, we just wanted to know what happened," Trunks said, voice wavering. "We didn't- know."

"What are you-" She hurried around the desk and peered at the computer, eyes going as round as dinner plates before her whole countenance became sad. "Oh."

Tears started to leak from the corners of Trunks' eyes. "Why did Goten's dad do that? Why didn't he help him?" he demanded, sliding into the chair. "Dads aren't supposed to do that!"

"Shhh," she whispered, leaning over and wrapping an arm around his neck. She pulled Goten to her, pressing her cheek against the top of Trunks' head. "Sh, it's okay, it's okay. Come on, guys."

She carried Goten and led Trunks by the hand down to the kitchen, setting them at the table and placing two bowls in front of them with a box of tissues. She dipped ice cream- vanilla for Trunks, chocolate for Goten- and sat down, helping Goten wipe his face. "How much did you see?" she asked quietly.

"Cell was fighting Daddy, but then Daddy made Gohan fight him, and then he _killed_ him," Goten wept.

Bulma sighed. "So. All of it. I bet you're wondering why it went down like that, huh?" They nodded in sync. "I can't tell you what was going through Goku's head that day, and I won't tell you what he did was right, but he thought Gohan was the only one who could defeat Cell. He had reached a level beyond Super Saiyan in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, and he thought he'd be able to bring it out against Cell."

"But he just kept getting beaten up," Trunks protested, eyes still watery but face shifting into a scowl. "Wasn't it obvious he was losing by the time Cell was crushing him?!"

Goten flinched. Bulma gave her son a look that said _settle down_ , and he sat back in his chair. "Goku made a very, very bad choice that day," she said, trying to choose her words to explain what he'd done without making Goten hate him. For a long while, _she'd_ almost hated Goku as well, but even if she still held discontent for him, it wasn't her place to try and influence his son's feelings about him. "And he learned a very hard lesson. He was very…depressed after Gohan died. He's always loved fighting, but even that didn't hold much appeal for him. He's always been around, right Goten?" The boy nodded slowly. "Well, before that, he'd spent a lot of time away from home fighting enemies or learning new techniques. He didn't have parents growing up, so it was sort of a learn as you go sort of thing, and with his free spirit- well, he made mistakes. ChiChi was also…quite different. She never wanted Gohan to learn martial arts and made him study all day. She wanted him to have a good life. It was an uphill battle to get her to let Gohan help fight the androids."

"Wait, Gohan helped fight the androids?" Trunks asked, confused.

"Yes. He was also on Namek, and he fought the Saiyans, too. Vegeta and his old ally, Nappa. I've told you about him."

"Well yeah, but wouldn't he have been, like, five?"

"Yes," Bulma said, tone wistful. "He was younger than you two. He's had a difficult life, but he always looked up at the positive side of things and didn't let it get him down. You know, before he met Gohan, Piccolo used to be an enemy. He hated all of us, mainly Goku, and he tried to kill him. But when he and Gohan met, they became friends. He actually kidnapped Gohan after Raditz killed Goku and trained him for a year. That's how he died in the first place, protecting Gohan. I think the only reason he started fighting with us instead of against us was to keep the kid safe. After a while, everyone started to become something like friends, but then..well, you know what then."

"So Piccolo was bad, but Gohan made him good, but then after the Cell Games he was still good but just didn't like everyone again?" Goten asked, clutching his bowl in his arms and staring at the tabletop.

"Yes, sweetie. He blamed Goku for what happened, but it's a long story on why he's so cold to everyone, and that's for another time."

"He really loves Gohan, doesn't he?" Trunks said thoughtfully, his tears having finally stopped.

"Yes, yes he does. He was like Gohan's second father growing up," Bulma replied, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "Dende was the first friend Gohan made who was his own age. He and Piccolo were the only friends he really made on his own- he bonded with Krillin, of course, but he was his father's friend first. Piccolo and Dende became his second family."

* * *

"Elder Moori," Dende greeted, bowing his head in respect. He was waiting for them outside his home, a smile on his face.

He nodded back. "Congratulations," he said. Gohan snickered at the embarrassment on Piccolo's face. He didn't feel embarrassed of the fact that the trio were now family, just having to talk about it with someone else. "I would like to formally welcome you to our family and as an honorary member of our race, Gohan. You are always welcome on New Namek."

"Ah, thank you," Gohan said, red rising to his cheeks.

Cina was standing just behind the Elder. He gave Gohan a smug look. _I told you so!_

 _I can talk to you, too?_ Gohan asked curiously, eyebrows raising.

 _Of course! All Nameks can speak with each other like this. You're only linked to those two, though._

 _We should go visit the other villages, too,_ Dende chimed in. _You should see all of New Namek before we leave._

 _Can we?!_ Gohan turned to Piccolo with a grin, knowing he would say yes.

With the telepathic equivalent of a light bop over the head, Piccolo agreed. _Since when did I become so predictable, brat?_

 _Since you turned four,_ Dende snickered.

* * *

"They took care of him when he got out of the Waste. You two don't really know how bad it was. Dende showed me- through his mind, I mean- and…you two, have you ever been so hungry it made your stomach hurt? Been sick, gotten hurt?"

Trunks and Goten nodded.

"What Gohan experienced was a thousand times worse than anything you two have ever felt. He spent eight years in a place with no food, no water, no light, no one to talk to, and it ate at his energy like the chemicals in my lab eat at the equipment if you spill them."

Trunks' nose wrinkled. "But if he was in a place so bad, why didn't everyone spend all their time trying to get him out? Why didn't everyone tell us about him?"

Bulma sighed. "We didn't know he was there, honey. We did spend years looking for him. You're too young to remember. I regret it, but after a while, we had to let go. But Piccolo never let go. He couldn't. Vegeta and I kept looking after the others gave up for a while, but even we had to stop after so much time had passed. But Piccolo just never did."

Goten stared at the table, poking at his ice cream with a spoon. "It's because of him Gohan came back, right?"

"Yes," Bulma said, rubbing her thumb over the lip of her bowl. Her eyes were downcast and sad.

"I don't want him to come home, then. Bein' with Mr. Piccolo and Mr. Dende makes him really, really happy, right?" Bulma nodded, looking stunned. "I wanna see him, but he should stay there."

"Yeah," Trunks said, more anger in his tone than Goten's. " _We_ can just go _there_ instead of making Gohan come all the way down here."

"Piccolo and Dende would probably be fine with that," Bulma said, uncertainty in her tone. "Boys, are you mad at everyone?"

Trunks frowned, scratching his head. "I'm not mad at you and Dad. I'm just…mad."

Bulma couldn't help but smile. The simplicity of children may be just that- simple- but it described emotions better than adults could, sometimes.

Goten looked torn. "…I don't know," he decided, looking down and stuffing ice cream into his mouth.

"Okay," said Bulma, deciding not to push them. "Goten, it's important you tell your parents you know what happened. They need to talk about this with you."

Goten shrugged. "I will."

"Do you need me to talk about it with them for you first?"

"No. I wanna talk about it on my own."

"All right. Just promise me you _will_ ," Bulma stressed, the corners of her mouth pulled down in worry.

Goten kicked his legs back and forth, swirling his spoon around the bottom of his bowl. "I promise."

* * *

For the first time in his life, Goten couldn't make himself eat a thing. Even when he had been sick, his appetite had been strong, even if it was dampened a bit.

Now, the food on his plate looked unappetizing and bland. All he could think about was Gohan screaming, body slowly crumbling in on itself.

"Goten, is something wrong? You haven't eaten a thing," ChiChi frowned. Goten gulped and hurriedly stuffed a dumpling into his mouth.

"M'fine!" he exclaimed.

"Goten, don't talk with your mouth full," she sighed. He swallowed the food before continuing.

"I went over to Trunks' house today. We were wondering…why Gohan didn't want to come live with us," Goten said, staring at the table like a child confessing he'd stolen a cookie before dinner. "We thought it might have something to do with how he died."

The table fell silent. Goten chanced a glance up. Goku's hand hovered in midair, fork halfway to his mouth, posture rigid. ChiChi was no less tense.

"What did you and Trunks do?" she asked, sounding a little out of breath.

Goten pushed his peas around his plate. "We looked up a video online…"

ChiChi's utensil clattered to the tabletop as she sucked in a breath. Goku's expression was unreadable.

"…I see," she breathed. "And you saw…"

"Daddy was fighting Cell but then he made Gohan fight Cell and then he didn't do _anything_ while Cell _killed_ him," Goten burst out, babbling. "And there was blood everywhere and Piccolo got really mad and and-" He hiccupped, tears leaking out of his eyes. "And Gohan just disappeared and he went to the really bad place!"

He started to cry like he had been several hours ago, long wails that broke and made ChiChi's heart wrench. She shot up from her seat and around the table, pulling him into her arms, choking on words that tried to comfort him.

"Oh, baby- I- we-" she stammered, looking at Goku with a desperate expression.

Face pained, Goku stood up and crossed around to them, placing one hand on Goten's head. "Hey, buddy. Can you look at me?"

Sniffling, Goten lifted his head from ChiChi's shoulder, tears streaming out of his eyes like miniature rivers. "Why didn't you save him, Daddy?"

Goku flinched. "I can't make any excuse for what I did," he said in a low voice. "That day, I made the worst choice I've ever made, the biggest mistake of my life, and I've regretted it every day since. There hasn't been a morning gone by that I don't think about what life would be like if I had stepped in and saved your brother, or better, never let him near Cell in the first place. I haven't gone to bed one day and haven't thought about how we'd all have breakfast together, go to the lake together, spar together. As a _family_. You'd have a big brother, and Gohan would be eighteen, probably have a girl of his own and thinking about starting a family. But we _don't_ have that, and the only thing I can say is I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Tears were falling in rivulets down ChiChi's cheeks as she rubbed Goten's back. "But _why_ did you make him fight Cell?" Goten asked, still looking upset. A thought occurred to him, making panic spread across his face, as he genuinely doubted his father for the first time. "You wouldn't make _me_ fight him, would you?"

"What-" They both gawked at him. " _No!_ Never! I will _never_ let either of you do something so dangerous alone ever again. I asked Gohan to fight Cell because I was a deluded idiot back then. I thought he was the only one with the power to beat him- I didn't consider what he wanted or what he was feeling. I wasn't his father that day. His _father_ was standing next to me yelling and trying to convince me to stop the madness. If I could do it over, I would have spent every moment I could in the Time Chamber training and left Gohan with your mother that day. He never would have even _seen_ Cell."

Goten sniffled, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve. "Do you _promise_ you'll never do it again?" he asked, voice wobbling.

"Yes," Goku said, laying his head over Goten's while ChiChi hid her face in his shoulder. "I promise."

* * *

Cell was bearing down on him with a malicious grin on his face, hands outstretched to snatch him from the ground. A disturbed laugh exited his mouth, eyes full of bloodlust as his tail snapped back and forth wildly in the air.

Shrieking, Trunks thrashed as arms wrapped around him, pressing on his ribcage. "Is this all you have, boy?" Cell cackled, the darkness around them seeming to laugh with him. "What a disgrace! A Saiyan so weak he can't even save himself!"

"Trunks!" Vegeta's voice snapped him out of his nightmare. Trunks sat up, hair sticking in every direction, heart drumming in his chest as he looked around frantically. His room was illuminated by the light coming in from the hall through his open door, partially blocked by Bulma, holding a crying baby Bra in her arms with exhausted but concerned eyes.

"Son, you were having a nightmare," Vegeta explained, both hands clenching Trunks' shoulders.

The boy breathed heavily, blinking several times to adjust his eyes. As his mind informed him of where he actually was, his face drew together in guilt. "I'm sorry," he muttered, diverting his gaze to the floor.

"What?" Vegeta frowned in confusion. "For what? Speak up, boy."

"I couldn't stop him," Trunks wept, rubbing at his eyes. "In my dream. Cell was killing me, j-just like he killed G-Gohan," he cried. "He was crushing me."

Vegeta looked like he'd just slapped him with Frieza's tail. For a moment, all he saw in front of him was an older Trunks, lying dead on the ground with a gaping hole in his chest, beside the crumpled form of a black-haired boy who couldn't live up to his father's unrealistic expectations.

"D-Dad," Trunks looked up at his father's bleary form through a mountain of tears. "Y-you wouldn't do that to me, would you?" His voice was unsure. "What Goten's dad did to Gohan? You wouldn't let me die, would you?"

Bulma's eyes practically bugged out of her head when Vegeta abruptly pulled Trunks into a hug, letting him cry on his shoulder. "I would never be so weak as to make a child fight in my place," he said, a scowl on his features.

She heard Trunks sniffle. Bra finally quieted down, falling silent in Bulma's arms with a yawn.

A soft look on her face, Bulma walked forward and placed a kiss on the top of Trunks' head and on Vegeta's ear.

"I promise that will never be you, Trunks."

* * *

At the same time, Goten tossed about in his bed, whimpering under his breath. In the world of nightmares and nighttime delusions, Cell chased after him, shooting pink beams from his fingers as Goten screamed for Goku to help him.

"Your _daddy_ doesn't care about you, brat!" Cell guffawed, arms snapping into place around Goten's tiny body.

Goten shrieked. His mind fabricated the pain, making tears leak out of his eyes in both the dream and the real world. "Daddy! Daddy!"

"Goten, wake up, wake up!" Something was shaking him. With a start, Goten jerked upward, arms flailing to try and get the arms away from him.

"Bud, calm down!" Goku whispered frantically, but Goten was still caught up in his dream, thrashing in his hold.

"No! Lemme go lemme go lemme go!" he wailed, beating his fists on Goku's arms until he let go. He curled up in a ball on the bed, weeping into his knees.

"Goten, shh," ChiChi hurried in after Goku, hair frazzled from sleep and a robe pulled around her form. She knelt down beside her husband, carefully running a hand through Goten's bangs.

After a minute, Goten's sobbing died down, and ChiChi slowly lifted him into her arms, rocking him back and forth. "Shh. It's okay, baby. You're safe."

Goten buried his head in her shoulder. "Cell was gonna get me," he cried, shoulders shaking.

"Hey, squirt. It's all right. Cell isn't here. You're at home with us," Goku whispered, rubbing circles into Goten's back.

"Daddy wouldn' help me," Goten sniffled. His lower lip wobbled as tears filled his eyes again, threatening to return in full force.

It probably would have hurt less if he had punched Goku in the gut. "Hey, I'm _always_ gonna be there to help you. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

"I want Gohan," Goten muttered. He rubbed at his eyes with his sleeves, missing the looks they shot at each other.

"He'll be back soon, Goten," ChiChi said, but she sounded unsure.

"He _will_ ," Goku returned quietly. "I'm going to make sure of it."

* * *

"Okay, is there any particular reason my father and the others haven't popped in after all this time?" Gohan asked, raising his eyebrows.

Dende started to sweat. Piccolo shifted uncomfortably, and he could _feel_ the guilt radiating off them.

"Guys," he wheedled.

"We didn't…tell them where we were going," Dende said, antennae drooping slightly. He pulled a small device from his robes. "Bulma made this for us. It conceals ki signatures of anyone within ten yards."

Gohan frowned and tilted his head. "Why _didn't_ you tell them?"

"This trip is to help _your_ recovery, Gohan," Piccolo rumbled, eyes narrowing as he looked off into the distance. "We all know how stressful their appearance at the Lookout was. Would you honestly have enjoyed this trip if they had come along?"

"…not as much, no," Gohan admitted sheepishly, wincing and rubbing his side. The Namekians' treatments had left him sore for hours every time.

Dende's mind poked at his, wondering if he were mad. Sighing lightly, Gohan poked back and informed him that he wasn't angry- he just didn't want to cause them any further grief.

"We should all be thinking about _you_ ," Dende said, readjusting himself on the cushion he inhabited in the hut the village had provided them with.

"Well, I mean, but-"

 _No buts,_ Piccolo's presence sparkled with annoyance. _They would have disrupted things. End of story._

Gohan pouted, flopping down like a cowed child and letting his head rest on Piccolo's leg. Acting like he was being stealthy (he wasn't), he practically assimilated into Piccolo's cape, curling up in it like a cat. Dende snickered into his sleeve, finding something amusing, before he got up and headed to the door.

 _I'm going to go find Cargo and say hello. It's been a long while since I've seen him._

He adjusted the curtains as he left, cloaking the room in relative darkness, although the sun couldn't be completely blocked out. A moment later, an energy blast floated out of Piccolo's hand, hovering in the air like a nightlight.

Gohan relaxed, allowing himself to drift into the land of sleep. The good thing about sleeping on a planet with no night cycle- he wouldn't have to worry about waking up to total blackness.

Even if the memory of the Waste faded, the darkness was something he would never forget.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, as you can see, Goten and Trunks are obviously traumatized by what they saw, which will be causing tension in the future. The Z-Fighters are going to hit New Namek soon, so combined with that it's gonna be a mess. Stay tuned. ;P The spin-off about the eight-year gap from the group's point of view is still in the works. Sorry I haven't updated as soon as I wanted- I'm doing NaNoWriMo, so yeah, I'm busier than usual. :P


	9. Chapter 9

_"Green Man: Serial Killer or Serial Healer?"_ Bulma stared down at the newspaper headline with a blank expression, switching her gaze to the photograph below. It was grainy, obviously taken from a low quality camera- a security camera, if she was a betting woman; the angle wasn't great, but it showed part of a figure in white ducking out of view and who she recognized as Dende darting after them, even if his face was blurry.

"What _have_ they been doing?" she muttered in confusion, taking a sip of her coffee. When she'd acquired hospital equipment for them for Gohan's recovery, she didn't think Dende would feel obligated to return it anywhere- let alone get any weird ideas in his head about returning it to random hospitals.

She skimmed the article, but it didn't do anything to ease her confusion. She didn't see why Dende would stop in to heal someone's broken leg…maybe it was a Guardian thing?

Shrugging, she dropped the newspaper on the counter on her way to the gravity chamber. She slammed her fist on the door a few times, hollering over the machinery. "Vegeta! It's time to take Trunks and Bra to the park!"

She heard grumbling within, but ignored it, sauntering back towards her lab. Smirking when she heard Vegeta muttering under his breath on his way upstairs, she tapped in the passcode and slid into her seat, pulling her laptop over to her work station.

She still had several tabs open, ranging from supposed miracle health treatments to weird healers mentioned in websites in the depths of the internet. So far, she hadn't found anything that could help or augment a Namekian's healing- not for the first time, she was annoyed by her planet's lack of progress in medicine.

Humming, she closed out the tabs and started a new search. _Green man hospital sighting-_

"Bulma?"

"Eee!" Bulma shrieked, flipping out of her chair and flailing her arms. She accidentally caught Goku in the face, making him jump back and rub his cheek. "Goku! What the hell! You could use the door, you know!"

"Sorry," Goku said, wearing a sheepish expression. "I forgot."

"Yeah, forgot," Bulma rolled her eyes, closing her laptop. "What do you need?"

He paused, looking guilty. "Goku," she groaned, rubbing her forehead. "I'm not telling you where they went."

"Bulma, _please_. I know you're just trying to do what's best for Gohan, and me popping up probably isn't going to help very much, but we're just _worried_. Goten's…really upset, and all he wants is to see Gohan," Goku said, making her bite her lip and frown. "I need to know he's okay."

She opened her mouth to say Piccolo would make sure of that, but thought better of it and sighed, shaking her head. "Look, I know you guys are Gohan's parents," she started, "but right now, he's calling the shots, and he hasn't called from the ship or anything to give the a-okay to tell everyone where they went. You and I both know they're probably getting a lot more help out there than on Earth. The planets we visited had medical facilities way more advanced than anything here. You're just going to have to wait."

He frowned, crossing his arms. Worry danced in his eyes, and she examined the frown lines. Since Gohan had come back, he'd seemed less…aged, but it was as if he were in a constant state of anxiety. She supposed she would be, too, if it were Trunks.

"Fine," he said, disappearing in a flash. She jumped, having not seen him place two fingers to his forehead- but then again, he was obsessed with training when he wasn't hanging around home, so he probably didn't even need to anymore if he was focused enough.

Goku appeared beneath a single tree, watching a small blue man wrestle with a monkey over a container of food. "King Kai? I need some help."

* * *

At first, he'd dreaded going to the healing areas just because it was always painful. He was used to pain every day now, but it wasn't as if he wanted more of it. Furthermore, they always muttered in Namekian about him, but Dende was teaching him now so he recognized several words when they did.

Being connected to his brother's actual _mind_ helped learn it, although he felt like that was kind of cheating. Then again, it was so much quicker and more convenient than learning it just by the old fashioned way- he'd learnt Latin that way, and it'd taken years.

Now, however, he actually felt better when he emerged- a small miracle in and of itself. The first time he took a step without feeling pain shoot up his spine nearly made him start crying. He'd managed to avoid that, luckily, as he didn't think the Namekians would react calmly to any perceived distress. Argos would probably freak out.

Elder Moori's village was, undoubtedly, his favorite on New Namek. Cina hung around him quite a bit, and they had plenty of jobs for him to do that kept him from sitting around all day feeling useless. Dende was enjoying himself; even Piccolo was more relaxed.

Nom and Murek's instruction as well as Dende's had advanced his progress immensely. He was confident enough in his ability to heal minor wounds and injuries now, but he felt bad about the warrior Nameks constantly injuring each other to give him something to practice on. They thought he wasn't onto them.

"What happened here?" he asked, feigning a hint of airheaded-ness as he placed his hands over a long gash in Argos' arm.

"I failed to dodge an attack from Maima that was enhanced with ki and this was the result," said Argos, completely straight-faced.

"That's unfortunate," Gohan smiled, trying not to laugh. Maima himself, from a village east of Elder Moori's, stood behind Argos, stoic. Ever since Frieza, the warrior class had started training more rigorously. "Make sure to be more careful, all right?"

Argos nodded, oblivious to the fact that Gohan knew he had let himself be injured. He and Maima walked away from the house Gohan leant against on the ground, presumably back toward the training grounds nearer to the desert-like land.

Hiding a snicker, Gohan turned to Cina, who sat beside him with wide eyes. The younger leant toward him, whispering under his breath. "Do they not know that we know?"

"They don't," Gohan muttered back in Namekian, making them both start to chuckle.

"Something funny, you two?" asked Cargo, coming up to them with a basket in his arms. As Dende's brother, Gohan considered him a relation of sorts. He'd come to stay at Elder Moori's village until Dende left for Earth again.

"Argos," said Cina, which was frankly all the explanation Cargo needed. He was much more mischievous than his brother- probably the most ornery Namek Gohan had ever seen. His pranks were done in good nature, only to make others laugh- but he still never passed up the opportunity to mess with Argos.

With a wide grin, Cargo set his basket down, kneeling down beside them. "Has he found it yet?"

"It?" Gohan asked.

Cargo leaned back and glanced around, motioning for them both to lean closer. "I put something in his turban," he said behind his hand.

"He hadn't put it on yet," Cina said, eyes lighting up. "What did you put in it?"

 _CARGO_ rang through their minds, making them jump in surprise. With a squeak, Cargo yanked the lid off his basket and slipped inside, giving Gohan a pleading look before he replaced the lid. "Don't give me away!"

Gohan stared at the closed basket for a moment before he gripped his staff, using it to get up as Cina supported one hand. He sat down on the basket just as Argos came round the corner, a deep scowl on his face.

"Hello again, Argos," Gohan smiled serenely. "Is something the matter?"

Argos glanced around in much the same manner as Cina had, for the same reason- discretion- but with an entirely different cause. "Cargo has stuck again," he said, in the same way one would after a death. He reached up and pulled his turban off, expression full of embarrassment.

Gohan bit his lip to restrain a bout of laughter from escaping. "I see," he said, voice wavering only a little.

Argos' entire head looked to be dyed a murky mix of dull pink and yellow- Gohan could only surmise Cargo had used the vivid inks from plant life near the rivers to sabotage his turban.

"Have you seen him?" Argos asked, eye ridges furrowing.

"I haven't," Cina said, too innocent.

Gohan shook his head, setting his staff across his knees. "Can't say that I have," he added.

"I see." Argos replaced his turban with a frown. "If you find him, please let me know."

"Of course." Gohan smiled, waiting until he felt Argos' energy head back towards the training grounds to tap on the basket. "Sa'tre safa."

The lid rose up while he was still sitting on it, and Cargo peeked out, apprehensive, before he grinned again. "Excellent," he snickered, floating out and replacing the lid. "Thank you, Gohan, Cina."

"No problem, just make sure he doesn't find you," Cina said in a serious tone, making Gohan laugh.

Cargo waved, darting around the corner of the house and out of sight. A moment later, Dende appeared from the other side, a confused expression on his face. "Did I just feel Cargo over here? I think Argos is looking for him."

"Haven't seen him," Gohan replied, eyes twinkling.

Dende gave him a long look before deadpanning, "Yes you have."

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Dende."

"You can't lie to me, Gohan."

"Who's lying? Certainly not me."

" _Gohan_ …"

* * *

"It appears that they've gone to New Namek," said King Kai, stuffing a piece of bread into his mouth.

Goku facepalmed, groaning. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?"

Around the bread, King Kai looked over at him and started to speak. "Bulma gave you the impression they'd gone somewhere else, whether she meant to or not," he shrugged. Goku stood up from beneath the lone tree on his planet, rubbing his forehead.

"I guess I'll see you later then. Thanks, King Kai," he said, sounding tired. King Kai just nodded as he raised two fingers to his forehead, a look of concentration spreading over his face.

A moment later-

"Goku, you're still here."

"I know," Goku replied, confused. "I can't seem to sense anyone that far. No one has a large enough ki, and I can't find Gohan or Piccolo, or even Dende. I thought you said they were there?"

"I'm ninety-nine percent sure," King Kai replied huffily. "Don't question my abilities, maybe it's yours that have the problem, huh!"

"Geez, sorry!" Goku sweatdropped, holding up his hands. "I guess I'll have to go the old-fashioned way."

"Good luck getting a spaceship from Bulma," King Kai chortled, but the Saiyan was already gone.

Fortunately for him, Goku already had a ship- it was sitting in a capsule case in the bottom drawer of his and ChiChi's desk, having been there for years since they'd stopped looking for Gohan.

Within a few hours, they were packed and boarding the ship, along with Krillin and his family, Tien and Yamcha, and even Master Roshi. Goku supposed they must have been partially driven by guilt, in addition to being concerned for Gohan.

He couldn't deny that guilt was the primary emotion driving him. Whenever he saw his eldest, all he could think of was the fact that he'd stopped looking. There should never have been any reason to- no matter how deep in grieving they were.

At first, he wanted ChiChi and Goten to stay home, but his wife put her foot down, refusing in a manner reminiscent of how violently she had protested Gohan fighting.

Six days to get to New Namek. Six days with twelve people cooped up in one of Capsule Corporation's small ships.

"Want some stew, Goku?" Launch held a tray out, wearing an apron that matched the one Chiaotzu wore. Her hands were covered with oven mitts, but he knew a ring (modest and inexpensive, but it somehow fit the both of them) sat on her finger beneath.

Tien and Launch getting married had stunned them all- even more surprisingly, _Tien_ had been the one to pursue _Launch._ For a while, they'd thought that hell had frozen over and they could look out the window and see pigs flying about. Goku would never quite fully understand Tien's thought process in that regard, and the man never spoke about it, but he supposed Gohan's death had caused a lot of things to happen.

"No thanks, Launch. Not hungry." Goku gave her a weak smile. She navigated her way back through the maze of sleeping bags on the floor toward the kitchen.

"How ya feelin', buddy?" Krillin sat down against the wall with him, just under a round window looking out into the darkness of space.

Goku shrugged. "Well as I could, I guess."

"Hey, don't worry." Krillin patted him on the shoulder. "We'll find them, you know we will."

Goku watched ChiChi wrestle a laughing Goten into a sleeping bag. "What if something's happened?"

The images that immediately started running through his mind were enough to make him queasy. He'd seen Gohan dead once; he wasn't going to come back from it if he lost him again.

"We can't speculate. We'll just drive ourselves insane," Krillin said, turning his own attention to 18 and Marron. "We'll deal with whatever's there when we get there. And we still have two sets of Dragon Balls to fix anything that has happened."

Goku couldn't stop the bitterness from seeping into his voice. "They didn't work the last time."

"I…I know." Krillin ran a hand through his hair, uncertainty entering his tone. "But we won't make the same mistake again."

Goku nodded silently. "Better get some rest, bud." Krillin got up and ambled away, leaving the Saiyan alone to his thoughts.

Little did the occupants of the ship know, another vessel stalked them through the void, barely visible for the way it was camouflaged.

Bulma sat back in her chair, watching the ship on the monitors. She felt bad for following them like some sort of stalker, but she just _knew_ this was going to blow up in everybody's face.

"Hyah!" She winced when something crashed behind her. Glancing up was unnecessary; she knew Vegeta and Trunks were trashing the gravity room onboard.

"Hey! You two, take it easy! You have five and a half more days in here!" she hollered, shaking her head when the noises only slightly decreased. "Saiyans," she muttered under her breath.

She sat back and picked up the novel sitting on the desk, flipping it open to her earmarked page.

Five and a half days till it all went to hell.

* * *

"Where are we going, Argos?"

"To gather cacti," the Namek dodged, just _oozing_ nervousness. Gohan tilted his head and gave him a disconcerting smile.

"Would it have anything to do with the energy signatures touching down on the surface of the planet near Elder Moori's village?"

Argos gulped. "Just visitors, I'm sure."

"Mhm." Gohan stopped, making Argos and Cina stop along with him. "My senses may not be working properly, but I can still recognize them. I'm going back."

He turned and started toward the village, ignoring Argos' attempts to change his mind. Cina plodded along silently behind him, his shadow, although he looked to be deep in thought.

Piccolo and Dende were both occupied with something. He snuck up to the village easily enough, immediately noticing the tense air that hung about. He rounded the corner to Elder Moori's hut, and Argos caught up to him, expression screaming _for a cripple, you sure can hobble fast._

Ki sensing now was like a legally blind person trying to read without glasses on. Everything was blurry and bled together, making the Z-Fighters seem like one large mass of familiar energy.

He headed toward the mass, leaving the village unseen, even as he passed straight by some- just like a ghost.

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

The hostility in Piccolo's tone didn't go unnoticed. Dende shifted uneasily, gripping his staff tighter as he watched the group glance at each other. "You know why we're here, Piccolo," Goku said, arms crossed and a frown on his face. "We came to see Gohan."

"You aren't welcome."

"Maybe we shouldn't be so hasty," Krillin, ever the peacemaker, stepped forward with his hands raised. "We aren't here to cause trouble and hover over your shoulders twenty-four-seven. We just want to know he's okay."

Dende sent a pleading message to Piccolo over their mind link before speaking up. "Gohan's resting right now, maybe tomorrow?" The _last_ thing Gohan needed was a fight on their hands.

"You two say that a lot," Yamcha said, a sour expression on his face. "I'm starting to think this is less about what's best for Gohan and more about what's best for you. Wouldn't the best thing for him be being at _home_ , with his _family_?"

Both Piccolo and Dende went rigid. "We're not denying you're his family too," Dende said, "he just needs time to himself."

"And the best course of action was running off without telling anyone?" ChiChi demanded.

"You people don't listen to reason," Piccolo snapped.

"That isn't for you to decide," Goku argued, and both their eyes narrowed as their gazes met.

The tension around them amplified, and the rest of the group shifted nervously. "I'm tiring of your incessant need to be a thorn in my side, Goku," Piccolo said, glaring.

"And _I'm_ getting tired of you trying to keep me from seeing my son," said Goku, returning the glare.

"Guys, come on," Krillin pleaded, while Dende wisely chose to start backing up for cover.

None of them saw Gohan, making his way behind a large boulder as he watched with curious eyes. Even he was not oblivious to the strain in the air, or the aggression in their stances. Settling down, he watched the staring contest, mind going a mile a minute.

Even though his time in the Waste felt like an eternity, in the real world it felt as if only a few weeks had passed. For him, seeing his friends so changed was, in a way, more surreal than anything the Waste had thrown at him.

Goku and Piccolo hadn't been besties before he died, but they'd gotten along, at least. Now, what he saw in front of him he could only liken to what it must have been like before Vegeta and Nappa descended to Earth.

He'd often wondered what Piccolo had been like before they'd met. Sure, he'd been hostile and cranky during their year together, and certainly beaten him up often enough during training (not to mention he'd thrown him at a mountain) but he'd never crossed the line and really hurt Gohan just because he wanted to or he was mad at him, and rarely outside of training had he raised his hand against him. Most of the time he'd avoided interaction, although Gohan couldn't remember what day he'd started sticking around at the campfire instead of up and disappearing.

That is, he'd never really had any true hatred for Gohan himself. There had been a mountain of resentment for Goku, which had bled over at times, but that had ebbed away quickly enough.

After Namek, Piccolo… _tolerated_ Goku. There was a pressing need to ally themselves together if they wanted to survive the androids. Spending three years practically living with someone softened one's view toward them, and by the time the androids rolled around, they'd been comrades, at least.

What happened while he was gone? Did all this enmity stem from the Cell Games? Did him dying _really_ make Piccolo hate Goku that much?

Inside, the knowledge was there ( _yes, it really did make Piccolo hate Goku that much_ ) but it was too tempered by how humble he was for him to see it. Even the people who are closest to each other in the world still think _They really did that for_ me _?_ when their loved one flips their lid on their behalf.

Gohan startled when the two blurred out of existence, a shockwave slamming through the air above that nearly knocked him over. He crouched down behind his boulder, planting his staff to anchor himself against the winds racing over the ground. In the back of his mind, he noted the Z-Fighters yelling and moving about, but his focus was on the two in the air.

Maybe he had underestimated just how bad a row they'd had. Piccolo and Goku locked together overhead, energies fluctuating at such levels that the rocks below started to rise into the air and disintegrate. Gohan glanced at his boulder, hoping it wouldn't give him away so soon, and tried to focus his eyesight and follow their movements.

It was a testament to how badly out of practice he was that an action that had been so easy for him before now took several minutes to perform. At first, the light coming from Goku's Super Saiyan aura was so intense he could hardly look at it, but once he got a look at their energies, he went slack in awe.

Cell wouldn't hold a candle to either of them. Frieza was an _ant_. Gohan had known Piccolo, after fusing with Kami, had reached Super Saiyan levels, but even Goku's first Super Saiyan form felt unreal- and Piccolo felt stronger than he thought was possible, no offense to his mentor. Even if he had come out of the Waste at full strength, Gohan would have felt pitiful compared to them.

At least not being able to train at all saved him some self-esteem issues.

The part of him that wasn't completely horrified couldn't help but be impressed- and suspicious that when not looking for him, the only thing Piccolo had done was train, in the most literal sense.

"Seriously? Ugh!" Evidently, Bulma was on scene now, hair pulled into a ponytail and clothed in garments more suitable to hiking around than the rest of the gang. Trunks immediately ran over to a frightened-looking Goten, while Vegeta looked on with an annoyed expression.

The knee Goku aimed at Piccolo's abdomen would have gutted a lesser warrior. Piccolo spat out purple-colored blood, opening his palm and releasing a volley of blasts that made the spectators duck and run for cover. The two blew back from each other, faces twisted into ugly expressions of hostility, little trace of rational thought left behind.

The last time they'd fought like this had been four years ago, the last time they'd made face-to-face contact before Gohan returned. Neither one could pinpoint any single, clear, coherent reason they were fighting- it was more likely an outburst of years of pent-up aggression and conflict, like a balloon that had been filled with too much water finally bursting. They were both lost in anger and resentment, and as such, they never saw it coming when it all went to hell.

Everything had been going so fast up till now- and even if time was going at exactly the same rate, to Gohan it felt like it had slowed down, no matter how scientifically impossible that was.

It wasn't so much that Goku was going to win as a horrible accident was about to happen. Although they were certainly trying to beat each other's brains out, and might not have cared much if either one died at the moment (although Goku was the type of person to feel some amount of guilt either way), a battle was rarely so straightforward as the strongest one being victorious. Other factors came into play- slyness, tactics, trickery - plain physics.

When Goku charged his fist with energy, aura flaring to life, he didn't consider the consequences if he managed to land a solid, total, successful blow. He was a second earlier than Piccolo had anticipated, and he reached up to block a moment too late; no one saw how the attack would damage the one area of his body- his head- that he couldn't easily regenerate.

No one except Gohan. If there was one thing he was still good at, it was predicting what another person was about to do- and he knew exactly what Goku was about to do. Even if he hadn't seen the attack coming, he knew his father's fighting style well enough. He may have looked different; he may have discarded his signature gi in favor for a blue and yellow one, may have seemed an entirely different person now, but Gohan still knew him.

In his state, it was highly unlikely he could stop either one. He may have not even have been fast enough to do so. However, Gohan did have one advantage: he saw it coming before either one of them.

Drawing on his energy was filed under "Very Very Bad: Do Not Attempt" by every healer who'd ever laid hands on him. As if he'd sensed what was going on before it happened, he'd already been trying, even as pain shot up his spine and through his whole body- even as it started to burn in a way he hadn't felt in years. He didn't have enough energy left to do much, but that had never stopped him before. It felt nostalgic, in a way- he enjoyed feeling his ki again, he had always enjoyed being able to fly and protect his family, but it was bittersweet. Even as it surged through him, it left fire in its wake, but for a few precious moments, he soared again.

Lunging into the air was the easy part. Darting in between them- easy. His mind felt detached- a defense mechanism, no doubt, as the pain currently occupying his body was worse than anything he'd felt for months. Still, it was the easy part. Vaguely, he registered someone had screamed out an almost desperate-sounding _Don't_ , and he realized he must really be out of it if he hardly recognized when he himself spoke.

No, the hard part was feeling the dismay streaming over from Piccolo and Dende's minds as they realized he was there; the hard part was seeing the horrescent, petrified terror on Goku's face as his attack made contact, and the hard part was definitely how much it hurt when it did.


	10. Chapter 10

Gohan wondered if he was screaming.

He sat in his room on the Lookout, one of the interior rooms. Piccolo had told Dende to give him one without windows, because he was afraid of falling when he couldn't fly. Piccolo didn't think Gohan knew about him doing so, and Gohan didn't think Piccolo knew about the embarrassment he felt at the same fear he'd had at four years old resurfacing (he did know, but he didn't bring it up, as Dende thought it would embarrass Gohan further).

The bed was in the center of the room, rather than against a wall, like it had been at the Son household. Nothing much else was there besides a table beside it, but he liked the simplicity.

He sat on the bed staring at the closed door, gaze lingering on the curved handle and lack of a lock. There was a lock on his old bedroom door- it was simply how the house was made. It had only ever been used once- the family had forgotten it was there in the first place- but one day she'd been so stressed about Goku being away and Gohan insisting on visiting who she viewed as the demon who'd kidnapped him and learning how to fight and how far behind he'd fallen in his studies that she'd snapped and locked it, leaving him with a mile-high stack of schoolbooks and two pencils.

She'd opened it an hour later and apologized, eyes watery, and disappeared into her own room, where he heard her breathing heavily for the rest of the night; she cried without any tears.

Still, he had never forgotten.

Sometimes he had nightmares about people locking him in places and never coming to let him out because they simply didn't want him anymore- whether it be because he was too weak, too frail, or too much of a disappointment; the reason varied.

The wall shimmered, almost looking like it wasn't there at all.

Now that he thought about it, there had been more furniture there- a small table by the entrance where he set trays for Mr. Popo to take back to the kitchen and wash. At first he'd felt bad about doing so, but at the time he hadn't been able to walk the distance. Mr. Popo had sat him down and told him that under no circumstances was he allowed to feel guilty about it. He was the _caretaker_ of the Lookout for a reason, and that job included taking care of anyone or anything who lived there.

Gohan got up and walked over to the door, slowly, wondering why it didn't hurt to do so. He examined the area closely, but there was no table.

He turned around, stopping short. The bedside table had disappeared, and now that he thought about it- where was the washing basin? The wide-lipped bowl usually sat on a stand opposite the door, filled with water he could see his reflection in almost perfectly if he left it undisturbed.

Gohan looked around, feeling distressed. The light that usually filled the room despite there being no electrical fixtures flickered, making him jump. He whirled around, glancing about wildly for whatever was setting nervousness in his gut, but there was nothing in the room but him and the bed.

Stumbling slightly, Gohan stepped back and sat down again, noting the lack of a top sheet. The Lookout was always warm inside, and there was hardly ever any need for a quilt or comforter. The fitted sheet and pillow were still there, the same color as everything- white.

Except they looked grey. Tilting his head much like a cat would at something it didn't understand, Gohan peered closer, narrowing his eyes. He turned to look at the walls- grey- and when he turned back, the pillow was gone as well.

Confused didn't even begin to describe how utterly befuddled he was.

Everything felt _wrong_.

 _One, two, three._

Gohan jumped, and his breath caught in his throat as three knocks came down on the door. He watched in apprehension as the handle turned and the door swung open. He hadn't even remembered the rest of the Lookout was there.

Piccolo appeared from a shadowed hallway- odd, because the interior of the Lookout was never shadowed during the day. Or was it night?

Piccolo made his way over to the bed, sitting down beside him and looking pained. Gohan gave him an apologetic look.

"Sorry. Things keep disappearing, but I can't figure out why," he said, giving the room a frustrated look. "And everything's grey."

"Gohan," Piccolo rumbled, making Gohan look up at him. "I need you to listen carefully."

Gohan gave him a confused look. "Where's Dende?" he asked, looking over at the doorway. "And Mr. Popo? And…Cina? Was Cina here, or was I there?"

His brow creased in doubt. "Gohan," Piccolo snapped, grabbing his elbow. " _Listen to me._ You are _dying_."

Gohan jumped, looking mystified. "I am?" he questioned.

"We were on Namek. You took a blow meant for me. Gohan, it's killing you. You have to fight it."

A pounding made itself known behind Gohan's temple. It was hardly worse than a minor bruise, but constant. "We…I was?"

"Kid, you have to remember. You have to fight right now, or we're going to lose you."

Gohan looked up at him with wide eyes. Suddenly, they were sitting on the floor rather than the bed, and he skittered up and away from the center of the room in a panic. "This- this is-"

"We're in your mind. This is your mind room, and it's disappearing because you're fading."

Fading. Gohan looked closer at the walls, now a dark, dull grey. Everything slammed back into his head all at once, and he turned to the door again, bemused daze slowly ebbing away.

"I'm dying."

"Gohan, I'm sorry." Gohan turned in surprise to find Piccolo right beside him, regret twisting his expression. "This is happening because of Goku and I."

"He was going to kill you," Gohan muttered, turning to stare at the floor.

"With you in this condition, better me than you."

"I didn't want to watch that again," Gohan sniffled, reaching up and wiping at his eyes. He did _not_ want to start crying; not here, not now. "He didn't mean to, but he was going to. I just wanted to not have everyone fight. That's why I didn't want them to come along. Everything was…good. But then it wasn't."

Piccolo knelt down so he could look him in the eye, hands coming to rest on his arms. "Gohan, I _am_ sorry, but you need to wake up now. Look around you."

Gohan obeyed, glancing around the room. The outer edges had faded into darkness, leaving them a lone platform to stand on.

"Gohan," Piccolo said, in a sterner tone. "If you don't fight to stay alive _right now_ , you are going to die again!"

Gohan startled at the mention of his first death, clarity appearing in his mind. He didn't want to die again- he didn't want to go back to the Waste. Dying itself wasn't so bad, but he was terrified of going back there. With a jerk, he closed his eyes and tried to wake up, panic running through him.

 _He didn't want to die_.

Gasping, he tried to wrench himself up, but pain unlike anything he'd known since he came back roared to life, making a shriek exit his mouth as he convulsed. "Gohan!" Dende yelled, glowing hands on his shoulders as he knelt beside his head. "Gohan, listen to me!"

Numerous sets of hands hovered over him, some holding him in place. Gohan's eyes darted around in blind panic, barely registering Piccolo kneeling beside his shoulder and the clawed hand running through his hair.

"You have to calm down. We're going to heal you, but you need to stay still," Dende stressed, expression desperate. Heart pounding, Gohan stared at him for a moment before nodding, unable to speak.

Everything hurt. All he wanted to do was thrash and scream, but he made himself hold still, the only sign of pain the silent tears leaking out of his eyes. The pain very, very slowly began to dull, lessening in intensity until it simply felt like the first time he'd become truly conscious in the living world again. His bones felt like they were made of sandpaper, his blood and muscles as heavy as iron; even breathing sent small jolts of pain spreading throughout his body.

He heard several Namekians muttering in their native language above him. The only words he picked out were _worse_ and _regressed_.

"Gohan, I have to move you," Piccolo said quietly.

 _It's okay,_ Gohan told him, unable to muster up the ability to speak. His throat felt raw, and his body felt burned out. Not for the last time, he wondered if he'd really done it now and ruined his body forever by drawing on his energy.

Piccolo snaked his arms beneath him, slowly lifting him from the ground. Gohan clenched his eyes shut and curled into his friend's gi, trying to block out all noise. It felt so loud it was making his ears pound.

He felt them rise into the air, Dende close behind. It felt like an eternity before he was set down on soft cushions, the dimness around him a welcome comfort, as all light made his eyes burn.

"He was making so much progress, too," a voice he recognized as Murek murmured, regretful.

"I need you to stay awake for a while with me, Gohan," Dende whispered. "Then you can rest."

 _Okay._ A presence he recognized as Cina burst into the hut, even as the older Namekians tried to shoo him outside. Gohan broadened his mind, metaphorically opening the channels to the other Nameks could hear him. _Cina?_

 _Gohan?_ The youngling sounded terrified, drawing closer with dismay radiating off him. _Are you going to be all right?_

Gohan didn't know how to word his request, so he simply sent a question over without words- a feeling, but that wasn't quite accurate- and Cina understood, running to the side Dende stood on and gingerly taking his hand. A moment later, Cargo burst inside, panting, looking as pale as a Namekian could manage.

 _Dear stars, Gohan,_ he cried. _Oh, Gohan._

He sunk down to the floor, resting his head on the cushions and placing his hands over Gohan's and Cina's. Regret flowed from his mind at not being able to ease Gohan's pain, even if his hands were those of a healer's.

 _Sorry for causing you so much grief_ , Gohan said, trying to smile. The action made his face feel like Cell had stepped on it, and he winced, turning away from the light of the doorway.

 _Do not apologize. I am sorry, anku,_ Nom said. _This is a fault of ours. We will not let it lie easily._

Gohan didn't have the brain power to decipher what he meant. The only thing that felt good at the moment was the warmth flowing from Dende's hands- his energy felt different than the others', most likely because they were brothers now.

It felt like falling asleep, but he knew he hadn't otherwise Dende would have woken him. He supposed it was what meditating felt like.

 _All warriors will exit the hut,_ Moori said, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. _Cargo and Cina may stay, and I apologize deeply, but I must ask your presence as well, Piccolo._

 _You can go,_ Gohan said, knowing Piccolo was about to refuse. With a frown at his charge, Piccolo turned and swished out the door after Moori, leaving the healer-class to crowd into the hut and settle around Gohan.

With the Namekians standing almost like a shield between him and the outer world, Gohan almost forgot about the stress he would undergo when he finally had to speak with his friends and family- almost. For the moment, he put it out of his mind as best he could, focusing on the warmth of Dende's energy.

* * *

The Z-Fighters waited as tense group on the outskirts of Moori's village under the watchful eyes of several warrior Nameks. They had no idea why they had been stopped there, not allowed to follow the group transporting Gohan. As soon as they'd realized what happened, Dende and a group of Nameks that had come out in concern- including Argos- had mobbed the three in the air, separating Goku from them as they gathered around Gohan on the ground.

Goku paced back and forth, hands clutching his hair and still in panic mode. "I can't believe I did that," he muttered. "I hurt him. Oh, Kami, I hurt him. I _killed_ him. Oh Kami, Chi, _I hurt him_."

ChiChi had both her hands clasped together in front of her, unable to stop him from freaking out. Goten watched everything with wide eyes, sandwiched between a hostile-looking Trunks and a worried Bulma. Vegeta stared rigidly into space a few short feet from her. Trunks kept one arm around Goten and the other shoved in his pocket, watching the village with alert eyes.

"Can't you tell us if he's okay?" ChiChi yelled to one of the Namekians watching them, growing frustrated when all they did was eye her. "Come on, my son may be dying and you're just standing there!"

Goku sat down and started counting in his head, a technique Bulma had taught him years ago for counteracting when he started to hyperventilate or grow too panicked. Immense, gnawing guilt jabbed at him like an icepick as he sat panting, still smoking from his earlier battle.

"Look!" Krillin exclaimed, pointing. Their heads swiveled as one, and they stood, hoping for Dende. A group of Namekians passed through the pillars that served as the village limits (evidently, they'd put into place some measure of security since Frieza, although nothing that didn't seem purely Namekian in nature, as it felt the same even now), Elder Moori at the front.

"Goku," he called. "I request to speak with you."

The group surged forward, lining up so Goku and ChiChi could speak with him. "Is he going to be all right?" Goku asked, arms crossed tight to keep them from shaking.

"His injuries are severe," Moori said. His expression was grave, but stoic. "It is not so simple as whether he will be all right or not. Before you arrived, he was making steady recovery, and had taken his first steps on this day that were not riddled with pain." He let it sink in for a moment, watching stunned guilt cross their features. "When your blow connected with his body, he had already injured himself just by using his non-healing ki. It was poisoned by the effects of the Waste, but even as it recovered, the channels in his body that conduct energy were burnt severely. They are not physical things, and thus very hard to heal. By using such a large amount, I am unable to say if he will ever channel his energy again. The injuries dealt by your blow have worsened the condition he was in and put him in great peril."

To Goku, his world had come crashing down again. "But- but you can fix this, can't you? With your healing powers, or the Dragon Balls?" he asked, desperate creeping into his voice.

"The Dragon Balls cannot fix what we cannot," Moori said. A trace of pity appeared in his eyes. "If his condition changes, we will inform you."

"Wait," Krillin interrupted, frowning. "You make it sound like we can't see him."

An awkward silent hung about until Piccolo spoke up with a growl. "You honestly think I'm letting any of you anywhere near Gohan? Look at yourselves. The only thing you've considered is yourselves. I admit that I am partially to blame for the state Gohan is in, but he did not wish for any of you to come here," he snapped, blowing out a hard breath through his nose. "The only thing you seem to bring with you is stress."

"He didn't want us to come?" ChiChi echoed. Her eyes had gone wide, hands lowering to her waist as she stared at him.

"Why wouldn't he?" Yamcha demanded. Beside him, Krillin fell silent, shoulders slowly hunching. He knew why.

"Because of what _just happened_ ," Krillin said, eyes on the ground. "Whenever we come around, all anyone does is argue. Guys, are we seriously this stupid? How did we just get this?" All eyes turned to him. "Because of us being dumb Gohan's fighting for his life. I think we should do whatever Elder Moori says. We can't help."

Silence followed his words. "Can…can we at least see him just once?" Goku asked, turning back to Moori.

Moori considered for several moments. "No," he said.

"Elder Moori, please," Goku pleaded.

"I am sorry, Goku. But unless Gohan explicitly asks, I will not take any of you to see him. You are to stay outside the limits of this village, and if you are seen within you will leave this planet by my authority as Grand Elder and will not be invited back." The atmosphere shifted, sympathy fleeing for its life, and they stared at him in shock. "I assume you have brought provisions. If you need anything, you may ask, and it will be freely given to you, but know this: the debt we owed to you as the savior of our race is gone. Today you have made a grievous error and brought conflict to our world, a conflict that may take the life of one of our own. Piccolo has already stated that he was also at fault, but you are the one who attacked first, and I will not punish one of my race for protecting his own from what he perceived as a threat. There will be no discussion on my decision." His tone held finality, brutal and clear.

"…all right," Goku whispered, nodding once. "I- I understand."

He turned and took a few steps away, looking downtrodden. Krillin cast him a sympathetic look, as well as ChiChi, who followed looking a mixture of numb and depressed.

They had all fantasized about finding Gohan at one point or another. Each time, they had envisioned a joyful return, surrounded by their friends, laughing jovially as they ate and drank and made merry together.

None of them had ever expected any of this. The lines of division in their group had become scars, and Krillin didn't know if they would ever heal.

"Grand Elder Moori," a voice called out. They turned and watched as a smaller Namekian ran up, clothed in a navy blue gi and wearing a white robe.

Cargo skidded to a stop, barely winded. He ran often enough whenever someone discovered a prank. "Gohan's asking for the Saiyan," he said.

The Z-Fighters perked up. Goku turned and stepped forward, but Cargo gave him a glare. "No, not him," he snapped, making Goku stop as disappointment spread across his features. Cargo lifted his finger to point straight at Vegeta. " _Him._ "

For a moment, no one moved. Piccolo frowned, but didn't protest- it was highly unlikely Vegeta would do anything, but he would be watching closely nonetheless. Turning, Vegeta slowly walked toward them, while Moori nodded.

The Namekians parted, and Cargo waited until Vegeta reached his side before fast-walking back toward Moori's hut. The Z-Fighters watched them go.

"Seriously?" Yamcha muttered, more in awe than any type of scorn, eyes wide. "Why did he ask for Vegeta?"

"I don't know," Krillin whispered back, before remembering the Namekians could hear everything they said. With a gulp, he closed his mouth.

Goku watched Vegeta's back disappear around a corner, a frown on his face and confusion in his eyes.

* * *

"Hey." Even as his throat burned, Gohan managed to speak, twitching one of his fingers in greeting. Vegeta ducked under the curtains in the doorway, glancing around with a raised eyebrow.

"All right, brat. Why am I here?" Gohan didn't miss the lack of 'Kakabrat'.

"Needed to-" Gohan paused to cough. "Tell you somethin'."

"Then tell me," Vegeta said, not rudely, as he sat down on a chair and crossed one leg over the other.

Gohan eyed him before proceeding. "If I die," Dende's hands went tense, "the Dragon Balls won't be able to bring me back."

Vegeta's head whipped around, and Gohan would have taken pride in the fact he had managed to stun him so badly if he were in a better mood. "What?" The prince demanded.

"No one's ever come back from the Waste before," Dende said quietly. "But Goku's attack isn't what's killing him. The Waste's damage is doing the bulk of the work; it's been worsened. Think of it like this: Gohan came out of the Waste with his body damaged. While it was healing, someone else damaged it further, but even as we tried to heal it, the original damage only got worse, even as the second injury was healed."

"And that qualifies as natural causes," Vegeta said, connecting the dots in his mind.

Dende nodded. "If I do d-die," Gohan said, stammering over a cough. "I need you to make sure Dad doesn't shut down. Even if you have to beat him half to death every single day. I figured you might enjoy that, so it might not be a lot to ask."

Vegeta smirked. "You're not wrong."

"But I need you to make sure Trunks and Goten don't try and come here," Gohan continued, prompting him to raise his eyebrows. "I don't want them to see me like this. I don't want them to see someone die, either. I can see it when you look at Trunks, too. You won't admit it, but you don't want them to deal with what you had to deal with or what I had to deal with." Vegeta opened his mouth, but Gohan cut him off. "You don't have to admit it to me. I don't care. Just promise me you won't let them see me unless you know I'm going to live. And _don't_ let Dad and Piccolo start fighting."

A moment of silence passed. Vegeta turned away, sighing. "Fine, brat. They'll be annoying, but fine."

"Thank you," Gohan whispered, letting himself relax. Vegeta noted the end of the conversation and got up, heading for the door. "For what it's worth," he said, just before Vegeta reached the door, "I mean, I know you probably don't care, but I apologize for not being strong enough." He didn't need to add on _to beat Cell_ or _to do the Saiyan race proud_ or _to beat the Waste on my own_. He only meant what he said.

Vegeta didn't look at him. "For what it's worth," he said, turning his head slightly with a smirk. "Nappa would have run away where you fought."

Gohan stared at him. The Vegeta-translator in his head worked overtime, eventually coming up with _You're a better Saiyan than Nappa ever was_.

He didn't know if that qualified as a compliment, but he decided to take it as one.

"And," Vegeta paused, and Gohan realized, in that moment, that the Prince had changed, too. He'd thought Vegeta had stayed mostly the same when it didn't concern Trunks or Bulma, but he saw now that there was something different in him too, not as obvious but still there. "I'm sorry, Gohan."

He stepped into the sunlight immediately after, leaving Gohan to ponder his meaning. He knew that Vegeta had been watching Goku and Piccolo's battle, so he must have felt some- guilt?- over not stepping in.

The apology, however, felt as if it went deeper.

Even if he couldn't put it into words, deep down Gohan knew exactly what Vegeta meant. They weren't quite friends, but parts of them understood each other, now that they had a common goal- protecting Trunks and Goten.

Vegeta had not stepped in to help him against Cell, nor had he stepped in to stop Goku and Piccolo from tearing each other apart. On the contrary; at the time, he had stared up at the skies of Namek with scorn and thought _let them_. If it came down to it, he would have sided with Piccolo, as the only thing he saw when he looked at Gohan's wilted body was a bloody repeat of the day the eldest Trunks and Gohan had died. With Trunks himself in such close proximity, he imagined it as his own son lying there- and he didn't have to use much imagination, as he had already seen it once, even if the boy had been an older version at the time.

The healers filtered back in, having been able to hear every word but trying to give him some measure of privacy and at least focus their attention on other things. Piccolo settled at the head of the bench, and Gohan felt déjà vu wash over him.

At one point, there had been railings on his bed to keep him from rolling off when he had a nightmare. It had made him feel a bit like a helpless child, but it was better than the pain he'd experienced when he'd rolled onto the floor one day. It had been one of the rare occasions Piccolo wasn't sitting in the room like a guard dog, and he'd drifted to sleep mere moments after he'd left. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor, back screaming in pain and mouth doing the same.

Now was different; the shame he'd felt then was gone. If Piccolo was ever going to feel any disappointment in him being weaker now, he'd have done it by then, and Gohan would have felt it over their link.

Piccolo and Dende had cared for him in what most humans would consider their most humiliating and embarrassing moments. There wasn't much he wasn't willing to share with them; he would be hard pressed to find something to be embarrassed about.

Even if his body was in agony, it was a freeing feeling. His guilt over other matters felt trivial, and he sunk into sleep, thankfully, in peace.

* * *

A cold wind blew from the south, abnormal for the weathers of Namek. A planet with three suns tended to hold a warm climate, pleasing to most life forms who had visited there.

Several life forms examined the landscape from the cavern on a cliff face, lounging around a fire. "Do you have the information yet?" one asked, annoyance apparent in his tone.

The being with an orb of energy in his hands functioning as a scrying device huffed. "Will you just be patient?"

"Last time you told me to be patient, we ended up waiting so long the resistance found us out and we spent three hours dodging blasters."

"That was a fluke," the second one muttered, narrowing his eyes. "All right, the Super Saiyan is definitely here. Prince Vegeta, too, by the looks of it."

"Excellent," another one crowed. "We can kill them both!"

"They're camped out near a Namekian village. But- wait." A grin snaked its way over the second's face. "I know who we should strike first."

"And who's that?" A large blue man that easily made six and a half feet drawled from his position sprawled out on the ground.

"They've got a cripple," the scryer snickered. "Aw, they're so concerned. He won't even be able to put up a fight."

"Hmm. Maybe we shouldn't kill him right off, then," the first one hummed, rubbing his chin. "We're hidden right now. If we're smart about this, we may be able to sneak in."

"And use the brat as a hostage," the second said, eyes twinkling.

"It's a kid? Even better," the leader grinned, settling down and taking out his provisions. "I had been concerned about the Super Saiyan, but with a hostage…"

"They look alike, too. I'm willing to bet they're related," smirked the other.

"If he's such a hero, he won't dare make a move against us if we have some weak brat as leverage." The leader tossed a bone he'd licked clean into the fire.

"This won't be so hard after all, boys."

* * *

 **A/N:** On Vegeta's apology: I kind of wanted to mirror the apology he made in the episode after Gohan took Cell's hit for him.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** So sorry for not updating this in so long. o_o A relative of mine passed away over the holidays, so...haven't had much time to do this. But I won't abandon it without telling anyone, unless I suddenly die or something. :P For now you just get a glimpse of an unseen enemy.

Btw. Imprinting. Where did I get that idea, you ask? Birds. I got the idea from birds. Yes, I drew a connection between baby birds imprinting on their mother to Gohan imprinting on Piccolo, and Piccolo telepathically imprinting on him. So yah. Namekian imprinting is basically bird imprinting. XD I need someone to draw them with wings and bird noses and Piccolo as a reluctant mama-bird. It would be hilarious.

* * *

"Say," Yamcha whispered, wondering if the villagers could hear him, "what did Moori mean back there?"

"With what?" Krillin replied. He overturned a cloth bag onto the ground, rooting through its contents for his family's tent. They had taken up residence at an outcropping of rocks close to the village, and while there were several caves to take shelter in, it would help to block out the suns and help Marron sleep. While Bulma had brought a whole house for her, Vegeta, and Trunks to sleep in, the rest of them didn't have such capsules hanging around for spur of the moment expeditions into space. However, she had an extra one, and donated it to the Sons.

"When he said he wouldn't punish Piccolo for protecting his own from a threat," Yamcha said, driving a stake into the ground.

Krillin frowned. "I dunno," he shrugged. "Piccolo sees Gohan like a son. That's probably all he meant."

"Guess so. I hope he's all right. It would suck for him to…well, you know, after we just got him back," Yamcha sighed, looking for the stew pot 18 had brought. "We could bring him back this time, but…"

"Yeah," Krillin agreed, rubbing his forehead. "But I can't help but have this…bad feeling. Like something's just going to come crashing down on our heads while we're trying to work things out and make everything worse."

Yamcha rolled his eyes. "C'mon, buddy. You're just being a pessimist."

"Can you blame me?"

"Well, not really, no."

Krillin followed the outline of Goku in the distance with his eyes, watching his friend piddle around on one of the spires. "Goku's sure taking this hard."

"I know I would," Yamcha said. As he strung up his own tent, he noticed a buzzing in his pocket, and took out one of the communicators Bulma had devised for space travel. He clicked away at the buttons. "I mean, he almost killed his own kid. He's been through enough as it is. That's just like…getting kicked when you're down. It's one thing if he would've almost killed Piccolo; he'd feel guilty, but it being Gohan is just world-crushing."

Krillin nodded but didn't reply, trying to untangle a mess of rope. The skin of Yamcha's forehead twitched, and he muttered something rude before shoving the communicator back in his pocket. "17's run out of movies at Kame House. I'm afraid he might go into _town_."

"That'd be a disaster," Krillin muttered. 18's brother was no longer a murderous, rampaging monster, but he was asocial at best and ornery at worst. Without Marron to dote on, Yamcha to binge watch TV with, 18 to annoy or Krillin to prank, he was bound to get bored. That spelled disaster for anyone in a hundred-mile radius. But they'd had to leave _someone_ to defend Earth while they were gone, and his temperament aside, 17 was as strong as a Super Saiyan. (Although, even Goku and Vegeta's base Super Saiyan forms vastly overshadowed the androids' power levels now, but that was a whole other story.)

Krillin twitched, looking up again and into the distance where the village lay. "Come on, dude," Yamcha nudged him. "You're being paranoid."

"Maybe," Krillin replied. However, years of experience had taught him that his paranoia usually turned out to be _something_ , and he couldn't shake the feeling of doom hanging over his head; the tenseness in his shoulders, the nagging feeling in the back of his head that made him keep one eye on 18 and Marron and the other on Trunks and Goten. No matter how much he hoped it turned out to be nothing, statistically, something was bound to go wrong.

He only hoped they were ready when it hit ground zero.

* * *

"On a scale of one to ten, how much does it hurt?"

Gohan furrowed his eyebrows. "Um…six?"

"Nine," Dende translated, mostly for the other healers' sake. He was quite attuned to Gohan's scale of pain, but anyone else was bound to underestimate how much he hurt due to how used to it he was.

With a perpetual grimace of worry, Dende started bandaging his arm where several blood vessels had burst. "It's not _that_ bad," Gohan muttered. He readjusted himself to try and get more comfortable, but there was really no getting comfortable.

 _Are you all right?_ Dende's voice echoed in his head. Gohan shrugged at him. _I'm not asking how you feel physically. Are you all right after what happened?_

 _I'm fine,_ Gohan replied. _Guess I'm still impulsive, huh?_ A weak smile dragged at his lips.

 _It was a noble thing you did,_ Dende corrected with a fond glance. _It was brave._

"I believe he is stable," Nom spoke up. Dende breathed a sigh of relief. One of his hands hovered above Gohan's body, a net of energy encasing it, while the others worked. The closest thing Gohan could compare it to was the act of running a diagnostic of a machine. "I would like to have Dende and Cargo monitor him in shifts."

The other Nameks nodded in agreement, slowly filtering out while giving Gohan gestures of acknowledgment. Cina was still curled up against the bench, arms folded on the top as he sat staring with wide eyes. As the tent flap closed, Gohan caught sight of a line of Namekians heading in the same direction.

 _Where're they going?_

 _I'm not sure,_ Dende replied. _I'll go look._ He disappeared outside with a swish of his robes.

"Neh, Cargo," Gohan cleared his throat. It was sore, as if he was getting over a cold. "Can I have a glass of water?"

"Of course." Cargo jumped up to exit the tent and retrieve a cup from the rain barrel just outside.

Not two steps outside, he tripped over a pair of feet. "Oof!"

Goten stared up at the fallen Namek with round eyes, a sheepish grin already overtaking his lips. "S-sorry, Mr. Namek!"

* * *

"Hey, where's Trunks and Goten?" Bulma asked, shading her eyes as she stared at the horizon. ChiChi paused beside her, in the midst of unfolding a bed sheet.

Looking around with a frown, ChiChi turned to the cliff she could see Goku's silhouette atop. "Goku!" she yelled. "Where're the kids?"

For a split second, Bulma saw Goku's head snap up, reading the tension and brief panic in the rigidness of his neck. A moment later, he waved. "They're with Gohan," he yelled down.

Eyebrow twitching, Bulma looked for Vegeta. "Hey, Vegeta, you were supposed to be watching them!"

He'd barely moved since they'd gotten there. On his own little cliff with his arms crossed and eyes to the sky, he ignored the rest of them. He snorted. "I was."

"What if they get caught?" Bulma shouted, planting her hands on her hips.

"Have you forgotten Nameks speak with their minds, woman?!"

For a moment, she didn't understand what he meant, before connecting the dots. _Moori must've told him it was okay to let them in,_ she deduced. He'd spoken to Vegeta telepathically before- and he knew it would be good for Gohan to see them. Sighing, she turned to explain to ChiChi.

* * *

"A-are you okay, Gohan?" Goten looked like he was holding back tears. Gohan smiled, making himself sit up even though it made his spine feel like it was on fire. He made a 'come here' motion.

Goten leapt the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Gohan's waist and sniffling into the front of his robes. Gohan winced at the contact, as Goten wasn't used to having to restrain his strength so much.

"Ease up there, Goten, you'll suffocate him," Cargo chuckled, filtering humor into his voice so Goten wouldn't feel too guilty.

"Sorry," Goten muttered, grip easing. Trunks was right behind him, looking up at Gohan with wide, round eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine, Goten. Don't worry about me," Gohan said. He smiled, ruffling both boys' hair.

"Are you sure?" Trunks asked. He tilted his head and squinted.

"I'm okay, guys. Come on, hop up here and sit down. We'll talk."

* * *

"Goku! ChiChi!" Yamcha yelled. "Come down here!"

ChiChi immediately dropped the basket in her arms and speed-walked across the terrain to where she'd heard him call out. Moori and a few Namekians were gathered, Dende standing beside him discussing something in low tones, and she pushed past Yamcha to stand beside Goku, who'd already come down. "Do you have news for us?" she asked, worried.

"Gohan will recover." Upon hearing Moori's words, everyone within earshot breathed a sigh of relief. "However," the Namek continued with narrowed eyes, "if he receives another injury, even we may not be able to help him. I will not suffer anymore fighting on this planet."

"I understand," Goku said softly, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

"His injuries are severe. He will not be able to travel or undergo stress for eight days and nights at the minimum," Moori continued.

"So I guess we're camping out for another week," Krillin muttered as he arranged a few rocks for a fire pit.

"Even after that period of time, Gohan may stay here for however long he wishes," Moori said. His tone held a note of subtle finality.

"Can we see him?" ChiChi asked, face twisted in concern.

"I'll ask him if he wants to see you," Dende said. His tone and expression was polite, but firm.

"How long will it be until we can go home?" Yamcha asked. He sat on a rock a few feet away with Puar on his shoulder, munching on some trail mix in his palm.

"You may return any time you wish," Moori replied coolly.

"Well, yeah, but when can _we_ go back? Us and Gohan?"

"Whenever the boy wishes."

"So basically," Yamcha tilted his head and squinted. He wasn't angered, just being perceptive. "We have no say in when he leaves." Both Goku and ChiChi frowned.

"You are correct, traveler."

"We're…his parents. Can't we at least bring him home where he can rest?" ChiChi asked, wringing her hands together.

Moori considered carefully for a moment before replying. "Gohan has a second home here. The days he has spent on New Namek have shown us that it has been restful and therapeutic for him. He has told me he enjoys it here immensely. We do not have the conflict your group appears to have, and welcome him as one of our own. He is a part of our family."

"Family?" Goku tilted his head slightly as he frowned in confusion.

"All Namekians are family," Dende elaborated. "He is, very much, my brother…" He trailed off after a moment, unsure of how they would take his next statement.

"And Piccolo's son," Goku finished for him, looking thoughtful as he nodded.

"Well, I understand that, but…they are the ones who are _literally_ related to him," said.

Dende was silent for a moment. "Would you say a biological parent has more right to see their sick child than an adoptive parent?" he asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Would you say, theoretically, that a woman who birthed a human child has more right to see said child when they're sick in a hospital than a woman who formally adopted one and legally became its mother?"

Flabbergasted, Krillin and Yamcha glanced between themselves. "Well…er, no."

"Then that is the situation we are dealing with. By Namekian standards…we _are_ also Gohan's family," Dende explained. "It doesn't come down to who has a _right_ to see him. We're only here to help _Gohan_. So only those he wishes to see will see him. It is as simple as that."

'Namekian standards?' mouthed Yamcha.

"It's all right, Krillin," Goku interrupted, making his friend stop short. "He's right. I'm the one who did this to him, anyway. I hardly have a right to stand here and say I'm entitled to seeing him. If Gohan doesn't want to see me, I won't make him." Krillin shrank back a little, sighing at the man's depressive state.

"I thank you for your understanding," said Moori with an incline of his head.

A new presence alerted them to the fact that Piccolo had arrived. Krillin cringed, as he hadn't felt the Namek's ki- only his aura, giving off suspicion and suppressed anger.

Piccolo landed in between Moori and Dende, giving the gathered assembly a narrow-eyed glare that was more mild than his usual expressions reserved for them. He spoke in a low enough tone they wouldn't be able to hear.

"Something is wrong with the planet to the west," he rumbled. "The air is cold and the earth is cool to the touch."

A frown marred Dende's face. "That should be impossible," he whispered. "Our suns keep the whole planet at a warm temperature."

Moori narrowed his eyes. "More than that, stormclouds have gathered several miles southwest of here," Piccolo continued.

"We never have storms!" Dende exclaimed. "Something outside our environment must have caused this."

"I sensed a small disturbance in the land in that direction, but I thought it a simple crop failure, as is want to happen when the nousa pass through," Moori grimaced, referring to the small, blue-skinned inhabitant of Namek similar to a small turkey. They were harmless, feeding off little vegetation and mostly the frogs of the lakes. "Where is Argos and Murek?" He had sent the two with Piccolo to investigate. Piccolo himself had been grumpy at having to perform a seemingly menial task with Gohan in his state, but Dende had convinced him that if they both _didn't_ occasionally do something to help out, Gohan would feel like they were intruding.

"Murek returned to the healing tent. Argos went to alert Cargo." Cargo himself had responsibility over the Namekian children, tasked with watching over them if trouble arose and the warriors were unable to oversee them.

"Very well. I feel we should-"

The Z-Fighters had been waiting patiently (and some, not so patiently), but Moori was interrupted by a thundering explosion. Every person, human, Namek or otherwise, whipped around to face the village, eyes going round.

Three separate columns of smoke rose into the air, originating from the buildings where shouts for help were getting louder and louder.

* * *

 _Minutes earlier:_

"…you sure?" Trunks asked. He tilted his head and squinted.

"I'm okay, guys. Come on, hop up here and sit down. We'll talk." Gohan patted the bench beside him with a smile, covering up a grimace.

Trunks and Goten leapt up on either side of him. "Bet that scared you," Gohan said, sympathy thick in his voice.

Goten nodded. Trunks just crossed his arms and pouted. "I don't get scared."

"Sure," Gohan allowed as his smile widened. "Goten, I don't want you to be mad at Father, okay? I jumped in of my own volition."

"Your what?" Goten sniffled.

"I made the choice," Gohan explained. "He didn't mean to hurt me."

Goten turned away to stare at the floor. "I know," he sighed. "Why do they have to fight?"

"Mom told _me_ they basically regressed to 'good old times' but I don't think she meant they were actually good," Trunks said, wrinkling his nose.

Gohan chuckled and lifted his hand to ruffle his purple hair. It made him sore, but he managed it. "I'll get some water," Cargo said, ducking out of the tent.

"I know it's hard, but I just don't want you making rush judgments. It's hard for _everyone_ right now. I'm not mad, I just want the fighting to stop…and you can help me by not making trouble for Mom and Dad, okay?" Both boys nodded. "Thanks. And I promise I'm going to be fine. I'll never lie to you."

"Thanks, Gohan," Goten said as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Gohan, we, um…"

"Saw the Cell Games video," Trunks finished bluntly.

"Trunks!"

"What?

"You did, did you?" Gohan asked quietly, averting his eyes. There was a tense silence. "You know just about everything, then?"

"I asked Daddy why he left you alone," Goten said as his lip trembled and Gohan winced. "He's really sorry for it. But…have you forgiven him?"

"Have I forgiven him?" Gohan repeated.

"It wasn't your fault you died, duh," Trunks interjected. "I mean…it was really bad, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was really bad."

"Are you still mad at 'im?"

"…I've never felt- angry at my father," Gohan said slowly. "I felt like I failed _him_. However…at times, I did feel- betrayed. I don't think I quite wanted to admit it, because it made me feel guilty to acknowledge such feelings. But yes, I do think I've forgiven him. I forgave him before I even died."

Goten stared up at him with a tilted head. "Are you afraid it'll happen again?" A tiny crease appeared on his brow.

Gohan smiled a nostalgic smile. "No. He's a lot different now- it was jarring, really. But truthfully, I know Piccolo-san won't let anything happen to me."

"You trust him a _lot_ , doncha?" Trunks asked. His arms were crossed, and he looked so much like his father Gohan wanted to laugh.

"I've always trusted him. Even when he didn't particularly like me. I was really afraid of him first, but he's a big softie inside," he said with a wink.

"I don't believe you," Trunks said with a twitch. "That guy's, like, an ice king."

"I thought he was the demon king," Goten said innocently. Gohan just shook his head, grinning.

"Why don't you two go back to your parents now?" Gohan said. "I'm a little tired. I think I need a nap," he said in a teasing tone.

Both of them snickered. "Okay. I can come see you again, right?" Goten asked, face momentarily twisting in fear.

"Of course. Don't worry about me, Goten. Come see me anytime, okay? I'll tell Elder Moori."

"Thanks, nii-chan," Goten beamed. Gohan felt his heart warm, in much the same way as it did whenever Dende called him veli.

"Bye, Goten."

He let himself relax against the cushions as the two ducked through the door.

A moment later, Cargo appeared with a cup in hand. "Sorry for the interruption," he said with a grin.

Gohan returned it. "It's fine. I like seeing them."

He took the offered mug and sighed. _I've almost forgotten what it feels like not to ache,_ he thought.

Fortunately, Dende had been teaching him to shield and _not_ broadcast his thoughts to every receptive mind in the vicinity. He assured him it would become second nature soon, and would require no more effort than breathing. Gohan at first hadn't understood why some Nameks didn't shield while also not broadcasting; they kept their thoughts mostly within their own range, but they didn't block anyone from hearing them. A shielded mind was like a closed barrel; an unshielded, relaxed mind was like a barrel open for everyone to see, while an unshielded but _broadcasting_ mind was like an open barrel splashing people who walked by. Sometimes, however, one 'picked up' unshielded thoughts that weren't broadcasted anyway, if one kept their mind open, like a radio picking up a station.

It was in this way that Gohan sometimes heard Argos complaining about a joke Cargo had pulled on him. It had been a source of amusement for him- the Namekian was similar to Piccolo in a way with how composed he kept himself, but he still broke said composure and was fun to watch become flustered.

However…something felt _off_. Something quite near him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

A _bang_ made him jump as the ground rumbled, making him jerk up and wince at the motion. "What was that?" he exclaimed.

"I don't know," said Cargo from behind him. "I'll check."

Alarm bells went off in Gohan's mind. He turned around, eyes widening when he realized Cargo-

Wasn't actually Cargo.

Green morphed into blue, antennae shifted into small and blunt horns, and Cargo's kind eyes turned into sickly pale yellow ones as the intruder lunged at him.

Gohan barely got the chance to shriek when the man covered his mouth with a cloth in his hand, and a moment later, he slipped away into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Something's wrong with Gohan," Piccolo and Dende said simultaneously just before they took off.

"Warriors! To me! Healers, pair up and search for wounded," Moori boomed. Goku watched in surprise as the Namekians quickly fell into a practiced formation- one healer with two warriors- and they made a beeline for the village- although he could see several Namekians hanging on the perimeter.

"What's going on?" ChiChi yelled. "Can we come too?"

"I'm guessing this isn't a drill!" Krillin replied as he sprinted past. "Tien, Yamcha, stay with the girls!" he called over his shoulder.

It would've been better for 18 to go in his place- she could beat him any day. However, their first priority was always Marron- 18 could also protect her better than Krillin any day.

The village wasn't enormous, but it was spread out enough and had grown to a point that they had to split up. Krillin followed a squad of Nameks to the first explosion, where what looked like a healing hut had collapsed on several Nameks inside. "Over here, guys!" he yelled, going for a beam trapping one to the ground.

Goku made a beeline for Piccolo's ki. He felt it thrashing against the surface of Piccolo's control, as if he were itching to blow something to smithereens. Wary, he dropped down outside one of the buildings, searching for Gohan's energy.

He couldn't find it.

"Cargo!" Dende called from around the corner. Goku darted over just as Piccolo emerged from the hut, fangs bared, and found the younger Namek crouched over one of his kind unconscious on the ground.

"What happened here?" Goku demanded.

"Hnngh," Cargo groaned, eyes creaking open as Dende's glowing hands hovered over his head. "Veli?"

Dende spoke rapidly to him in the Namekian language. A moment later, Cargo's eyes went wide. "Gohan-veli!" he gasped. "I was getting water for him- something hit me over the head and knocked me to the ground. I remember- Goten was here, he'd just left, he doubled back- I think he ran after them," he said, gaze muddled and confused.

"They?" Piccolo growled. He stood imposingly over them, but the Namek didn't seem intimidated personally in the least, much to Goku's surprise. "Did you see them?"

"I believe it was blue-skinned," Cargo frowned, before repeating, firmer this time, "Yes, the person had blue skin. It was no Namekian. Goten was here, I'm sure of it. He and Trunks had come to speak to Gohan, but left- I saw him- but Goten came back. Not Trunks, though."

"Crap," Goku said quietly, glancing around. "Dende, can you tell Vegeta to look for him?" A pit of anxiety turned round and round in his stomach. The situation was bad enough- and now someone decided to kidnap his son? Gohan was so weak- by _Goku's_ doing- he would never be able to defend himself.

"He's already found him," Dende replied, looking concentrated. "Piccolo, I can't reach him." _Can you?_ was the unspoken question.

Piccolo's lip curled. "I can feel his mind, but I'm unable to speak with him. There's only one reason for that."

"He's unconscious," Dende frowned. "I can feel him somewhere to the west, but-"

"The exact location is muddled. That should _not_ be possible," Piccolo finished, grinding his teeth. _Nothing should be able to keep me from him._

 _Whoever did this must have found a way to distort Namekian telepathy, even in bonded pairs,_ Dende replied. _Even so, they cannot completely block you. I don't believe anything is that powerful._

 _I'll fly in that direction. There is no use sitting around here._ Without further discussion, Piccolo blasted off into the air, making Goku take a step back from the force of it.

"Where's he going?" he exclaimed.

"To find Gohan," Dende replied shortly, helping Cargo up. "They have a mental link. Something is distorting it, but the closer they get the harder that will be. It won't last. He _will_ find him." He let Cargo lean on him as he headed for a rest hut- merely a variation of a healer's hut, but made for non-serious injuries.

Goku glanced up at the sky, expression hardening. "Then I'm going after him," he said firmly, taking off into the air.

Dende paused to stare after him, watching the Saiyan become a white dot on the horizon. He had no doubt Piccolo alone would be enough to handle whatever threat had decided to land on Namek- especially after what he and Dende had done years before on Earth.

He wished Goku, as powerful as he was, tagging along gave him peace of mind. Instead, he could only hope it didn't turn into a disaster.


End file.
